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ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

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▨ FIC • PREVIEW ▨

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: (preview) 2280 (final word count approx. 7K)

Rating and Warnings: Preview is rated M(ature) but final fic will be E(xplicit) for heat sex among other thing. Warnings for the preview include sexual innuendo and mature themes.

Author’s Note: One of the reasons I wrote this was in response to a prompt given to me by @mindays like MONTHS ago (I have included the original prompt at the bottom of the preview) • I really hope you like it! Sorry I took so long.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably.

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain.

“Leave us.”

“My lady, I cannot-”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip.

“Y-yes, my la-”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet 15...such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly.

“I will be outside, my lady-” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect-”

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you.

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure.

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears.

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him.

“Who are you?”

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open.

“Why are you here?” he tried again.

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit.

Wrists bound together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior. His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong. This was not a man accustomed to being bound.

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... the tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...but it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all of the Emperor’s captives tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

A strange fluttering stirred in your chest at his words, though you did not fully understand the cause. You could not afford to waste time dwelling on such things, however.

“So... why are you here?”

The prisoner was silent for several moments as he weighed the risk of being honest with you.

“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I was told the Emperor himself ordered my arrest… but I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“What do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much. I’ve heard he is young... Stories say he has the temper of a demon, but his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god, Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air. It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself.

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it.

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him.

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark .... Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”.

You nodded

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… but she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Lady…” the prisoner shook his head irritably. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response.

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possess not to flick him right in his arrogant nose.

“As you wish,” you replied with heavily affected sweetness. “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” (you paused here significantly) “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize...”

The prisoner snorted.

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it.

Arousal.

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment...he could almost taste you.

This is dangerous.

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core.

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.”

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously.

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out.

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home.

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale, gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse.

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, stepping slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable.

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold.

“The emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp.

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation.

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind.

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake.

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls.

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly.

“I’m tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand.

“What are you doing?!”

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy.

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing 4 layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him.

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-”

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back.

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours.

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up.

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet.

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself.

Then you smiled.

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend.

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged.

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm.

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat.

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth.

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat.

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

Please let me know in the comments if you would like to be added to the taglist!

I would love to know any thoughts or theories you have! Thank you for reading! This story will be published on or around 7/31!

This is the original prompt which inspired this story...

#min yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #hybrid yoongi #yoongi smut #hybrid fic

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insanityclause · 4 years ago

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William Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, starring Tom Hidldeston in the title role, is currently streaming as part of the UK National Theatre at Home initiative.

Coriolanus is set in ancient Rome, where the people suffer from a famine and clamor for changes to the current ruling system. Distinguished general Caius Martius returns from a successful campaign in Corioles and is thus named “Coriolanus.” He finds himself caught in the middle of conflicts at home and abroad as his mother, Volumnia, pushes him to become a consul of Rome. But he is a soldier at heart and ill-suited to politics and thus, betrayal and banishment drive him to form an unexpected alliance with a former enemy, Tullus Aufidius. He vows revenge on the city that rejected him, but this final, ill-fated campaign leads to his downfall.

Coriolanus is particularly relevant in these times of social unrest and political upheaval because it portrays a a country in the throes of transformation, people demanding a voice, and the breakdown of oppressive structures and systems. The play explores the idea of power and the very pertinent question of in whom it should reside and whether it should ever be in the hands of a single person.

It also tackles the dangers of imposing inordinate pressure on an individual and how they can break from the weight of nigh-impossible expectations. In an interview with The Guardian, Hiddleston himself says it best:

“I think the play also raises another complex question as to what degree any individual can withstand the intensity of idealisation and demonisation that comes with the mantle of unmoderated leadership or extraordinary responsibility.”

Directed by Josie Rourke, the production succeeds in bringing Shakespeare’s bloody epic to life even in a confined space. The production was filmed on stage at the Donmar Warehouse in 2014 by National Theatre Live.

The closed quarters of the Donmar Warehouse always push production teams to be more creative in their execution of material and the results in this case are truly impressive. Rourke made the most of the limited space and even turned it to her production’s advantage, ingeniously giving the focus on the characters and the dialogue more than the trappings of ancient Rome, creating a truly visceral experience.

The production was stripped to its bare essentials, the set design all the more striking for its sparseness. Simple props are deployed to impressive effect and even complicated battle scenes are deftly conveyed through chairs, ladders, and creative lighting.

A particularly memorable scene is when Caius Martius takes a shower after being bloodied in battle. The shower scene is not fan service but really more symbolic of the objectification of Martius’ body by the characters, how much blood he has shed for his city and how many scars he bears as proof of his service.

Hiddleston explains that the shower scene was also a way for the audience to see how the character bore his wounds in private even as he refused to reveal them in public. He cries out in pain as the cold water seemingly stings his wounds and one can feel him buckle under the weight of so much expectation. As Hiddleston says:

“We wanted to show him wincing, in deep pain: that these wounds and scars are not some highly prized commodity, but that beneath the exterior of the warrior-machine, idealised far beyond his sense of his own worth, is a human being who bleeds.”

The performances are consistently engaging and even with the majority of the ensemble seated in the shadowy background, when one character has his or her scene, the audience can look at no one else.

Tom Hiddleston is magnificent as Caius Martius Coriolanus, giving depth and nuance to a controversial character. Coriolanus is a difficult man to root for but Hiddleston effectively captures the many facets of the character from the daring warrior, the haughty patrician with such disdain for the plebeians, the dutiful son, the reluctant consul, the vengeful exile, and eventually, the vulnerable family man.

He effectively portrays a man seemingly unyielding in his convictions and yet also easily swayed by his mother, whether she is prodding him to become consul or begging him to spare Rome. Coriolanus is constantly torn between his obedience to his mother and her aspirations for him and his own proud and brutally honest nature.

His fearlessness and ferocity in battle do him little favors when he tries to play the politician and there is a brilliant scene when Hiddleston sarcastically tries to win “votes” from his countrymen and it is obvious how he struggles to keep up appearances. When he eventually snaps and unleashes his rage against the people, one can already foresee his inevitable doom.

Deborah Findlay as Volumnia is masterful and mesmerizing, her powerful influence over her son evident from her first appearance. She is clearly the driving force behind the story – pushing her son to gain renown on the battlefield, then to become consul of Rome, and finally, to relent in his revenge plans to raze the city. Far from the traditional depictions of motherhood as full of tenderness and compassion, Volumnia’s love for her son is rooted in brutal ambition, and she values the glory he can bring to their house more than his own life.

The mother-son relationship is one of the more fascinating dynamics in Shakespeare’s plays and the chemistry between Findlay and Hiddleston effectively portrays this. For all his pride and rage, Martius can never bring himself to refuse anything his mother asks of him, even when they both know that some requests will end in tragedy.

Birgitte Hjort Sørensen as Virgilia, wife of Martius, does not share many scenes with her husband but in the few that she does, her manners and tender looks effectively convey the bond between them. She even employs some sensuality in the scenes where she tries to convince him to give up his bloody crusade.

Hadley Fraser as Tullus Aufidius gives a fascinating portrayal of a character who starts out as the lead’s fiercest foe and then somehow, becomes a powerful ally. The mutual admiration between the two warriors is evident from the moment they are face-to-face in battle.

While there are battle scenes in the play, the duel between Martius and Aufidius is the only one given complete fight choreography and it is an intense and gritty affair, both actors having rehearsed their movements extensively before the play’s run. Even as they exchange violent blows, there is a reluctant respect between them.

When their paths cross again later in the play and, in a rare display of humility, Martius puts himself at his enemy’s mercy, Aufidius recognizes an opportunity for them to finally become the brothers-in-arms they were destined to be. But the alliance is short-lived and soon Aufidius finds his rage replaced with sorrow.

Mark Gatiss gives a delightful performance and is a refreshingly jovial character in a cast of grim figures. His Menenius has the thankless task of counseling the stubborn Martius in his journey to becoming a consul and also tries his best to win the support of the people for his tempestuous protégé.

Peter de Jersey is regal and noble as the general Cominius, another supporter of Caius Martius, but one who is still unable to prevent the misfortunes that befall the ill-fated Coriolanus. Both Cominius and Menenius fail in their efforts to build Martius a career as a consul because they realize that he is a man who cannot go against his own nature.

Alfie Enoch plays Titus Lartius, a Roman general and another ally of Coriolanus. He is a brave and loyal companion in battle but he also is unable to help Coriolanus achieve his political ambitions.

The Tribunes, played by Elliot Levey and Helen Schlesinger, are as scheming and manipulative as one expects them to be, and though there is mutual hostility between them and the proud Martius, they hold the advantage because they are easily able to sway the people to their cause. In the end, Martius, for all his prowess in battle, is no match for seasoned politicians, who know the game too well.

The rest of the ensemble play multiple roles as Roman citizens and Volscians and though there are only a handful of actors, they are all still able to effectively convey the sense of a mob rising against a tyrant or an army of soldiers in the heat of battle. Once again, it is Rourke’s excellent direction that makes the most of the Donmar’s small space and allows the cast to be strategically placed in every scene. Not an inch of the stage is wasted.

The intense, intimate production brings out the character dynamics and the forces at play without distracting the audience with the bells and whistles of intricate set design or flashy costumes. The story is the star of the show and what better way to perform Shakespeare than to put the emphasis on his words.

Coriolanus is one of Shakespeare’s more brutal works, full of rawness and rage, without the customary elegance and charm that audiences may be used to with the romances or comedies. Coriolanus is a bloody cautionary tale about the nature of power, a theme that will certainly resonate strongly with audiences today.

In a time where we are all deprived of the communal experience of live theater, the National Theatre at Home initiative has provided a worthwhile alternative experience and a reminder of the excitement and wonder a well-executed play can inspire. While we wait for the worst effects of the crisis to abate, we can take comfort in the hope of a better future. In the words of Coriolanus himself:

“There is a world elsewhere.”

The stream will be available on the National Theatre’s Youtube Channel from June 4 to June 11. Watch it while you can:

https://youtu.be/XHqkEruwBT0

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xfanfics · 4 years ago

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Destiel Fic Rec List Part 7

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 39 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

Bare Your Throat and Have Me by highermagic E | 4k | AU, PWP, a/b/o

Castiel and Dean have only been mated for a few months, but Dean knows how this goes by now.

Deterioration by highermagic E | 33k | Hot, AU, Cop!Dean, Mystery

Dean has a gift – he can see things. Things that others wouldn't see, motive and calm control between the splatters of blood and fractured mirrors. He solves crimes others simply can't. When bodies are piling up all around him, Dean starts to feel as though he's drowning in it, falling under the weight of his own helpless observations, until he finds something unbreakable. Unwavering. Castiel – if only the man was as good for him as he appears.

Try Something Tuesday by almaasi E | 48k | Fluff, Teacher AU, Librarian Cas

Human AU. Dean Winchester teaches a third-grade class. He's new to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing - but by pure happenstance, he meets Castiel: a particularly dapper male librarian who moonlights as a substitute teacher. Dean's curious and Castiel is willing, so why the hell not? Except, fate never intended it to be one-time-only.

Angel-Cuffed by Luciel89 E | 15k | CANON!verse

Dean wakes up to find himself handcuffed to his angel. Both are annoyed, Sam finds it hilarious and awkward situations await them. But the longer they're tied together, the more things between them start to change...

The Bet List ❤ by StevieCas M | 55k | Fluff, AU, Underage, wing!kink

"That bet list was the worst thing you've ever come up with, Gabe. If it wasn't for it, I would never have thought about such things. It's bad enough being an earthbound angel, it's bad enough being considered a weirdo even by angel standards. Did I have to be gay as well? Do I even represent a minority or is it just me out there?

I love the world of this fic--and Dean and Cas' relationship dynamic is perfect.

Ad Astra ❤ by nhixxie T | 17k | Angst

One day Cas says, "Stars died for you, Dean Winchester", against ruffled hair perched atop sun kissed skin and sleepy eyes. Dean stirs, moving to spread his palms against the contour of Cas’ back, tips of fingers languidly strumming the indentations of his spine. One, two, three, four, he counts, the closest he could get to scientifically studying the anatomy of the human body. "Is this some physics crap again?" He frowns with eyes closed. Cas smiles softly. "Far from it. "Dean’s fingers play at the base of his back, ninth thoracic vertebrae, Cas notes. "Then tell me all about it.”

Read it and weep. If this were published, I would buy it.

Sensitive by nevergotwings E | 1k | wing!kink

Curiosity sparks when Dean gets the urge to touch Castiel's wings.

An Exercise in 'Worthless' ❤ by beastofthesky

M | 26k | AU, Tattoos

"I mean, you’re–" He gestures at Cas, in his neat oxford shirt and nice pants. “–and I’m a high school dropout who tattoos for a living." Wherein Dean makes a hefty living as a tattoo artist who owns the space next to Gabriel's cafe. Sam attends the local university. When Gabe's cousin comes to live with him while starting grad school at Sam's university, Dean thinks for sure that all his negative karma's coming to bite him in the ass because Cas clearly has a thing for Sam. No one would ever choose him over Sam. That's just logic.

Perfection everywhere. Dean's lack of self-worth is explored, and there are tattoos.

Of ties and wings by perpetuallycaffinated E | 4k | Hot, PWP, wing!kink

Jealousy, ties and and impatient angel. Also, wings.

pie | by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Hot, PWP

Dean uses pie to eat out Castiel. That's pretty much it.

I Say, But I Mean by inplayruns T | 4k | Coffee Shop AU

Dean runs a bed & breakfast. Cas works in a coffeeshop.

Heavenly Delights by TamrynEradani T | 2k | Fluff, Coffee Shop AU

Gabriel owns Heavenly Delights, the coffee shop Cas works at and on the day before Thanksgiving, Cas sees someone looking down so he brings him a hot chocolate, and Gabriel conspires to get them together.

New Eyes by ozzutly E | 1k | Canon!Verse

Dean sees Castiel's true form. He decides he likes it.

Resonance by definitely_indecisive G | 1k | Canon!Verse, Soul Bond

The battered and abused presence had poked warily out, almost as if expecting harm. He let his grace drift forward to meet the soul instantly, putting off all of the warmth he could muster. The presence seemed to stutter for a second, before melding itself into Castiel's grace. He allowed the soul to do so, cradling it with his core. He could feel the tiredness and abuse from the poor thing, yet also the amazing light it gave off as it started to slowly heal because of his grace. He could tell this was the most unique soul he had ever met, and that he wouldn't forget the feeling of the presence for all of millennia.

My Roots Take Flight by KismetJeska M | 125k | Reverse!verse, s4 AU

After forty years in Hell, Dean’s more than willing to accept the offer: become a guardian angel and earn his freedom. But his new ward seems destined to hunt alongside Sam, and there are secrets in Heaven that the angels don’t want found out. Dean’s going to have to choose between his duty and the people he loves- and to work out just where Castiel fits in.

Angel Airlines by dancingloki E | 19k | Hot, Airline AU

Dean is an airline pilot with a raging hard-on for his head flight attendant. Fluffy fluffy fluff.

El Tango de Amor by literaryoblivion E | 16k | AU, Fluff, Angst,

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Dean leaves, is gone for two to three hours, and comes home sweaty and exhausted to the apartment he and his brother Sam share. Sam had asked him where he went once, and Dean had said he was working out, which technically wasn’t a lie. What he was doing was definitely giving him a workout, just not in the traditional sense. In all actuality though, Dean was leaving every Tuesday and Thursday for a dance class. A dance class taught by a one Castiel Novak.

Ugly Sweater!Verse ❤ ❤ by nerdylittledude E | 193k | Canon!verse,Fluff, Post s5

If they really go back and think about it... it all started with a tree. A Christmas tree, that is. Castiel is human now, and the apocalypse is not only over, it's been averted. Sam's away at NYU, finally finishing law school, and Dean's stuck in what is probably the most awkward situation of his life. He's not exactly sure how he ended up sharing a flat with Cas in Media, Pennsylvania, but he does know the curious would-be angel is sort of derailing his plans for a life of decadence and booze. Cas is trying to make the best of his humanity by exploring human holidays. Dean can't exactly complain because he's pretty much the reason Cas got his wings clipped in the first place. Dean didn't actually want to fall in love, but how was he supposed to know it would all start with a goddamn tree?

My favorite fic ever. I don't know how many times I've read it. There is switching, fluff, angst, and slow building romance. I will rec this forever.

More Than Alien Mojo by remivel

E | 29k | Men in Black AU, Fluff,

Dean was one of Men in Black's best agents. In fact, he's been knee deep in extraterrestrial crap his whole life, and he's gone through more apocalypses than he could care to remember. He thought he's seen it all-- until he and his partner, Sam, were sent out to a routine meteorite crash inspection. What was supposed to be a meteorite turned out to be a golden spaceship, and instead of hitchhiking intergalactic pathogens, it was an alien that took the form of a human male. A very naked human male. Soon, they discovered that this alien named 'Castiel' was a refugee from a war-torn galaxy.The first of his kind to ever venture to Earth, Castiel agreed to share information about his galaxy and his race in exchange for his relocation on Earth. The only catch was: since Castiel was a new alien species, nobody knew what he was capable of, whether he was as harmless as E.T., or as dangerous as the Predator. And it was Dean's job to keep an eye on him and assess just how much of a threat Castiel could be, and if necessary, eliminate him. It wasn't a job Dean was looking forward to doing. Especially since he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him, naked or not.

Come On With the Rain by remivel E | 36k | High School AU, dubcon

When Castiel was 15, his life changed. In one tragic instant, he lost his parents, and he was forced to live with his Uncle Bobby in Lawrence, Kansas. There he met the Winchester boys, Sam and Dean, who were living next door. He thought Sam was pleasant, and Dean, well, Dean was special. Three years passed and Castiel’s relationship with the boys developed in an unexpected way. Sam became his best friend. But Dean was a different story. Dean was not Castiel’s friend. He was a neighbor, a classmate, the brother of Castiel’s best friend, and the guy who worked part time at his uncle’s salvage yard. That was all. But on the rare times that Dean asked Castiel for help, Castiel couldn’t find it in him to turn him down. Because this was Dean. And the answer would never be “no” when it came to Dean.

Crossroads State by Mercy M | 51k | AU

Castiel has a nice predictable structured life teaching high school, even if he happens to be overqualified for it. Then this guy moves in around the corner and literally knocks him on his ass.

Heart of Glass by omphalos E | 17k | Canon!Verse

He's the one who was punished, severely, because of his feelings for Dean, but who still gave up everything for him in the end. Surely there should exist between them a better level of comprehension than this.

Domesticated by kototyph E | 15k | AU

Being the only angel in the entire Pacific Northwest can be tiring, even if these days Castiel spends more of his time shoveling manure than fighting off the hordes of hell. It's an occupational hazard, unfortunately; he earns most of his living rehabilitating wild animals a few miles outside Spokane. Wild animals like Dean, for instance— a mountain lion who's entirely too smart for his own good. There's a man in Castiel's dreams named Dean too, but that part's just a huge coincidence.

Excite by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Crack, wing!kink

"Sam Winchester, I am going to carnally worship your brother whether you are in this room or not.

Snapshots 'Verse ❤ by highermagic E | 60k [WIP] | AU, Wing!kink, a/b/o, omega!dean

A series of one-shots following the meeting, courting and eventual love between an Angel doctor named Castiel and an Angel teacher by the name of Dean.

Less of a WIP, more of a series of one-shots. Rowan's worldbuilding is lovely, and the sex is perfect as usual. EDIT: Apparently this has been removed.

Angel's Wild ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 389k | AU, H/C, Wing!kink

But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Perfection. Go read it now.

Sharing Hands by almaasi E | 6k | Hot, Canon!Verse

Dean feels something strange when he touches himself, and realises Cas has been using him as a vessel ever since he came back from Purgatory.

The Good Samaritan Rule by manic_intent E | 6k | AU, wing!kink

Written for deancaskink: "Dean and Castiel are both angels and brothers-in-arms. During a battle, Cas's wings get hurt and [it's] up to Dean to help him out. In the process, Cas finds out how sensitive his wings are and well Dean is Dean no matter what his form [is], so this leads to lovely first time sex." God never made humans. Instead, he made the angels in his image, and on the sixth day he made the is him, and gave them free will.

How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (accidentally) raised each other (and Sam) ❤ by Vera_Dragonmuse E | 69k | AU, Sam/Gabriel

In which, Gabriel meddles with the time line and Castiel becomes Dean's angel rather sooner than intended.

Out of the Deep ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 488k | AU, h/c

Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better.

It's long, but worth it.

Feathers by brightly_lit M | 90k | Angst, Wing!kink, D/s

In an alternate season 5 scenario, Dean, Sam, and twenty of their closest hunter friends stopped the apocalypse by closing the gates to heaven, hell, and purgatory. Now working with his former hunter buddies at Ellen's security company, Dean doesn't know what to make of his weird new coworker who always wears a trenchcoat and leaves behind feathers everywhere he goes. He especially doesn't know that, cut off from the power of heaven, the constantly falling feathers mean his new friend is dying. "Creation cried out against the injustice of a righteous man in hell. I answered its cry.

Vita Nuova ❤ by wordaccordingtofangirls M | 61k | Teacher AU

AU. Dean Winchester takes a job as a teaching assistant to get his little brother into a prestigious academy. He doesn't quite expect such long nights and snobby kids, but the real surprise is professor Castiel Novak: or falling in love with him, that is.

Like a Parched Land by twoskeletons E | 8k | reverse!verse

Written for the following prompt: "Reverse!verse: Castiel is the Righteous Man and Dean is the angel who drags his ass out of Hell." This is an AU version of episodes 5x01 through 5x03.

The Cabin by bookkbaby E | 16k | Canon!Verse, Wing!kink

For an angel, the building of a Nest is sacred. Dean doesn't understand. Written for the 2013 DCBB.

Pies and Prejudice by linoresearch E | 97k | AU

Dean didn’t even want to enter this damn competition. He was happy with his life, more or less. It might not look like much from the outside, or to a younger brother headed towards a big time law career, but it wasn’t so bad that Dean needed to scrabble around for any opportunity to make a change – particularly not one as stupid as this. He’s going to throttle Sam the next time he sees him, for getting him involved in this ridiculous Bake-Off TV show. It’s bad enough that Dean has to cook in front of people he doesn’t know; he now has to go through the humiliation of being judged on it too. Its humiliation piled on humiliation, and to make matters worse Dean has to play nice with all the other suckers involved, like that rich dick-bag Castiel Novak. God, he hates that guy, and he hates that someone so awful has such a frustratingly fine ass. Written for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang 2013

The Breath of All Things ❤ by KismetJeska T | 65k | AU, H/C Angst,

Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

So angsty, and so, so perfect.

All the Way ❤ by cadignan E | 81k | College AU

Castiel spends the first two weeks of college in much the same way he spent the previous years: alone with his books. He’s fine with it—he enrolled in college to learn, after all. Then in his first chemistry lab, he has the bad luck of being paired with snide, good-for-nothing Ruby, and the further misfortune of sitting behind Dean Winchester, the world’s most beautiful distraction. Ruby catches Castiel staring at Dean and makes him an offer.

Destiel, Actually by Bloodism E | 15k | Crack Fluff,

Picture your typical rom-com cliché. Now picture Dean stuck in that rom-com cliché. With Castiel. Because that's what happening to him - a crazy whirlwind of your typical-and-not-so-typical cliché's. He's playing the main lead in all of them and Castiel's his counterpart. Of course, the culprit is obvious. Gabe's enjoying himself too much, lying back on his favourite cloud with a tub of salted popcorn. It was about time someone kicked the two knuckleheads into gear.

Suburban War by squeemonster E | 100k | High School AU

Moving to Lawrence with his family is the most significant event of Dean Winchester's life. It brings a stability he's never known, and the only thing to have more of a profound impact on him is Castiel Novak: the two boys become fast friends the day they meet. But as Dean grows older, he dreams for something beyond the monotony and constraints of suburbia, and he is haunted by the inexplicable feeling that he was born for something more than what this life offers. As he struggles to reconcile the person he yearns to be with what his family and friends expect of him, a fateful choice exposes just how fragile his life in the suburbs is, and possibly risks losing the best friend he's ever had.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn fic rec #destiel fic rec #*#list

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qiuchengworld-blog · 5 years ago

Text

QiuCheng Smut

This fanfiction is written for my beloved friend @zhanyiislife ❤❤❤ She coped with me talking about it and helped me take some decisions on how to develop it. It’s for her too because she is a really lovely friend and this is a little “surprise” for our friendship. <3 <3 <3

You can find the text under the cut. <3

The room was completely dark. Cheng's eyes were still not used to it, although he often worked at night, but in that case the situation was different. His sight was further impeded by a black bandage that Qiu - his master, as well as his husband - had used to bandage him. The room looked cold and in fact, he, who was completely naked, had goose bumps. It was evening: they had just returned from work, ahead of schedule, and both needed to relax.

Even though he was the boss at work and Qiu was therefore under his orders, when they were alone the situation changed dramatically. Only his master knew that side of himself and Cheng didn't mind at all leaving the reins to him. Qiu really knew how to do it by taking him to the limit, punishing him, playing as he liked and Cheng... Cheng trusted him blindly, letting him do it.

He knew that Qiu was preparing for what he was going to do to him, and something between his legs was already soaring upwards at the mere thought. In those moments he felt really lucky: all the caresses, the erotic games were just for the two of them. To think that, if they had never met, he could have done such things to other people… it gave him a tiring motion.

All that atmosphere made him feel like he was on his toes, but in the end the longed-for wait was broken when he clearly heard the door to the room being opened. He was already aware that the only person to be crossing the threshold could not be other than his Master: the maids had already been sent away as soon as they returned home, so there were only the two of them in the large villa.

In the room the sound of the light switch spread and the room became immediately clear, but the sight of the black haired remained dark. Before being left that way, his eyes had been blindfolded, ropes placed on his body to form a complicated weave, but his prominent muscles stood out well. The muscles of his body stretched and made him move towards the source of the noise that now resonated in there. They seemed well thought out - as if Qiu had tried over and over again a walk to make him tremble more - and they rang out cadenced on the tiles of the most precious marble he had been able to find. It took what turned out to be an eternity for Cheng before the steps stopped. The albino's breath caressed him slowly even though he didn't speak. His inquiring gaze wandered over his husband's entire body, but completely deprived him of any touch.

The strings were in place, just as he had put them on, before leaving the room, so Cheng had not tried to get rid of them, nor had he moved from that position.

"Here you managed to be good, huh?"

Those words were spoken a few inches from Cheng's lips. The body of the black haired stretched out towards him, looking spasmodically for even a slight touch, but it didn't happen. A slight lament full of frustration escaped from his lips and the albino just grinned. In that case he had to win his attention, it wouldn't have been so easy to find relief.

"Someone is eager for some touch? Yet at work today you were so mean to me, that now you'll pay the price.”

Qiu's slow breath was now on Cheng's neck. He couldn't see him, but he was sure that the man in front of him had his eyes wide open. Cheng knew how much he liked to tease him or take revenge after working days and he... he let him do it because, from the first time he had allowed him to be the top in such things, he always liked to let him direct the games.

The albino's gaze lingered in the middle of the other's legs, where his penis stood out in all its majesty.

"How long have you been in this condition? Have you, by chance, been excited just thinking about what awaits you?" He took it in one of his mighty hands, snatching from Cheng a wheeze of surprise and slight pain, as he was holding it with some force.

"For a few... minutes." Cheng fumbled, winning the desire to try to move. Even if the grip hurt a bit, at least he was touching him. He didn't answer the second question, because the answer was obvious, but that didn't make Qiu very happy.

"I think I asked you another question. And how should you call me when we're alone like right now?” His tone was more severe and irritated than he intended, but he had to get him in line.

"I got excited just before Master entered the room. Just the idea of what could be done to me excited me like that, Master." He wanted to see his expression, but the bandage was still in place and the ropes prevented him from moving his arms.

"Now we're talking. You can't just forget these things, you know that.”

The grip on Cheng's cock was released and Qiu moved behind him, observing the anal plug he had put on him for the previous wait. It was made of the best material anyone could think of, a must for a man like Cheng. He didn't even remember where he had it coming from anymore, but it really cost a lot. With all the money Cheng had, it hadn't been a problem at all to afford it and the other man had appreciated it very much.

The sound of the zipper of the trousers coming down made him hope that something would finally happen, but it wasn't like that. Shortly afterwards it was followed by the one of the belt, which ended up in Qiu's hands, while he let his pants down to the ground. He kept the boxers on, as did the black jersey. With the belt he hit his hand a couple of times, so Cheng could taste what would happen soon. Cheng just swallowed, but said nothing: he didn't want to ask for mercy, he wanted Qiu to do it, even if not too strong. He felt the weight of the belt on his right shoulder, but it was not a blow. Qiu first of all wanted to remove the anal plug, or in case he hit it badly, he could do serious damage to Cheng. He wanted it to be a pleasure for Cheng, not a torture. Her hands went to caress his husband's firm buttocks, giving him some light spanking, before going to get the base that was coming out of the rectum of the black haired.

She began to move it circularly, pulling it towards himself too, after he had his partner bent forward. That way it would have been more comfortable and quicker to pull it out, instead of inflicting a slow torture.

In Cheng were many emotions: excitement, relief in feeling the caresses to the buttocks, a sense of emptiness as Qiu took off the anal plug that had filled it until just before. He knew what was waiting for him in a few minutes and could not deny how much he liked it when Qiu's hands, the belt, or the whip, ended up giving his butt a bright red color. It still seemed strange to him to have rediscovered himself so passive, but it gave such strong emotions that he had appreciated it from the beginning. He felt too full of responsibility at work and, for this reason, he needed Qiu to take the reins in his private life. Cheng's breathing became shorter and shorter: that was a small torture that seemed eternal to him. The movement that was set to the plug was stimulating him too much.

When he finally heard it come out with a slight plop, a sense of emptiness caught him. He knew he wasn't going to be filled anytime soon, but he didn't complain about it. He heard his companion's footsteps move away from him, probably to place the plug on some surface, before they returned up to a few feet from him. Qiu's firm grip was held around one of his arms, so he advanced forward, until he touched the smooth surface of his desk with his bare skin. He carefully lowered his cheek to the point of resting it on top of it, while his backside was positioned well, so as to be clearly visible to his master. He felt observed for more than a few fractions, but then his attention shifted to the belt that, at that precise moment, had begun to touch his skin.

"Please Master, punish me. I behaved badly today and deserve everything you have in mind." Those words were pronounced automatically, knowing that Qiu was demanding them.

"Mmm, good, but..." The feeling of the belt touching Cheng's buttocks disappeared the moment Qiu pulled it away to prepare to hit him. "You need to use a more convincing tone next time."

He had the air beaten up, then he had it beat down with moderate force on poor Cheng's buttocks. The black haired had closed his eyes waiting for the hit that would follow those words and he didn't move at all when he felt the pain. He knew that it was only the beginning, the taste of the boars that would come afterwards. He passed his free hand between his thighs and reached the tip of his sex, which was still dry. He smiled and bent over him, whispering an order to his ear.

"You are not allowed to come, unless you pray to me to do so, so be good, or the punishment will be worse.”

Only by that slight touch was he sure that Cheng was almost close to the limit, but he had to control himself.

"All right, Master."

That threat didn't scare him, rather he wondered if he could. That situation always excited him a lot and at that moment he was even more excited than before. His voice, however, had not wavered and he would have tried with all his heart.

He felt the weight of his master take off, the hand that until just before was at the tip of his cock moved away and, in a completely unexpected way, almost immediately came another hit with the belt. There was a jolt in Cheng's body, mostly dictated by the sudden pain, than the desire to escape from that torment. They were only at the second hit, but at least ten more would have followed, if not more.The hits resounded loudly in that closed room: Qiu had taken care to close the door as soon as he entered. As he went on, Cheng began to feel his buttocks burning and Qiu didn't seem to have any pity. He managed to count twenty before they stopped: Qiu was now satisfied and, taking him by the ropes that passed over his back, he pulled him up, inspecting him with his free hand. A caress was given to the back, which made Cheng moan and shiver, and one in the middle of his legs, to his cock. Despite everything, he had managed to obey him and felt nothing suspicious. The other's body was a bundle of nerves, stretched like a string of violins, as if he was afraid of what was waiting for him. But there were no evil intentions and, on the contrary, he wanted to give him a moment of respite.

He took him to a part of the wall completely free from any object and kissed him with passion: even if he liked to be so bad, at the same time he knew how to be sweet if he wanted to. He went to feel the body of the other: the nipples were already turgid and, as soon as he touched them, Cheng missed a moan of pleasure. Their lips split and Cheng could hear Qiu's lips on his neck, go down to his shoulders and then slowly to his nipples. Cheng was already literally on his toes: his body was constantly shaken by the thrills of pleasure, but he still didn't want to implore him. A much stronger moan than the others left his lips, while Qiu's tongue played with one of his nipples. He didn't know what his real intentions were: to take him to the limit and stop at the most beautiful time? To be quickly convinced to let him come? Make him go crazy? Given how he began to suck his swollen nipple, it seemed to him that he wanted to make him go crazy or that he wanted to try and make him break his promise.

"Ngh... Master..."

That word, Master, was music to Qiu's ears. He liked it a lot as it came out of his lips, with that tone betraying the excitement he felt, or simply showing his dedication or even his need to call him that.

He left his nipple in peace and went on to leave a warm trail of saliva, extremely slowly, until he reached the pubis. He forced him to widen his legs a bit, so that he could go and leave a few bites on his thighs. Even though there was Qiu between Cheng and the wall, the black haired found himself forced to lean his forehead against the wall, looking down on his husband.

Qiu grinned and went to suck his testicles as soon as he could, while with one hand he started to play with his rod. He was really doing it on purpose in treating him like that, but he liked to hear his voice, his moans. Moans that Cheng didn't try to hold back at all and he couldn't even hold back at all.

When Cheng formed an "S" with his tongue all along his pole, he arched his back, moaning more for pleasure. He couldn't really stand it any longer, so he wouldn't have come much further.

"M... master, please, let me... ngh... come."

He just bit his lip, realizing that he had made a mistake in formulating the request. Qiu in response stopped licking his dick.

"We're not there. The magic formula is, please Master, can I come? Anyway, not yet. First for the wrong question, second because it's still early.”

He didn't add anything else, returning to kneel in front of his member. This time he took it in his mouth and for Cheng it was the apotheosis: he was warm around his sex as he moved slowly along the whole length. Cheng's eyes closed, even though the bandage already prevented him from seeing and this amplified what he felt. He closed his hands with his fist, looking for a moment of breathing between the moans.

"P-please Master. Can I come?

He miraculously managed not to interrupt the whole sentence, but Qiu didn't answer: he increased the rate at which he was giving him a blowjob. Cheng, from his previous experiences with him, knew well that this was a silent yes and that the albino would swallow it up. It didn't take long for Cheng to end up pouring his semen into his hot mouth while he was shaken by a strong orgasm. His legs trembled because of the intensity of what he had just experienced, but Qiu with his mighty hands kept him standing until he could get up in turn. He swallowed when he found himself face to face with Cheng, making a bit of a sexy move. But now that Cheng was okay, he also needed some relief, but he had to first get his husband back in the room, who at that time could not even stand up. Given Cheng's condition, Qiu decided to take him in his arms and take him to his room: there he could prepare him on the bed and then fuck him well, as both liked very much. Cheng did not dare to raise any objections and in the end he stood between the linen sheets. He had recovered and his butt hurt slightly when in contact with the fabric, but he kept everything to himself.

Qiu had placed him as close as possible to the edge of the bed and opened his legs well, thus caressing his buttocks. They still appeared red, warm to the touch and still had to hurt him, not much but sure. He left there a few kisses on the reddest spots compared to the others, as if to alleviate the sweet pain he had inflicted on him. His tongue began to play around his anus: he didn't want to use lubricant, he would prepare it by licking it well, a practice that the other loved. The circles the tongue made around his anus relaxed his muscles more and more, even though the anal plug had already done its job. But he knew his chicken very well, sub, whatever, and he knew very well how much he loved those preliminaries. He was a Master attentive to the needs of his sub, there was no doubt about that. One hand went to massage the member, while he penetrated him with his tongue. This time he wouldn't allow him to come: he wanted it ready for later, when they would have wild sex. They had been doing it for years now and every day it turned out to be more intense than the previous one, often they also found themselves experimenting with new things. The albino was always careful that they were pleasant for the other but, above all, that they were not dangerous. Given the position, the whole set of emotions that were manifesting on Cheng's face was being lost. The black haired strangely was not impassive as usual, but the moans he let slip from his lips were eloquent. That preparation, perhaps strong from the orgasm from before, was making him very sensitive, but he resisted.

"Master... can we... fuck?"

Qiu was surprised to hear those words: he would expect to hear him ask if he could come, not that. Qiu in response took himself out of that position and brought two fingers to Cheng's mouth.

"Fill them well with saliva, which they have to play a little in your rectum and only then can we fuck."

Cheng immediately obeyed, without daring to object: he took his two fingers in his mouth, passing around and in the middle his tongue, so as to be able to lubricate them well with saliva. He moved his head as if he wanted to get his mouth fucked by them, while Qiu kissed his cheek, chewed it slowly, letting Cheng finish. All that might seem like a perverse game, but they both liked their relationship that way and maybe it wouldn't be the same with other people.

He heard him whispering that he had finished and then gently took off his fingers, kissing him with impetuosity, while with his fingers he went to his rectum and penetrated it without any problems. He was pretty ready by now, that wasn't necessary, but he always wanted to be sure. He had to remove his fingers, as he wanted to change the position of the strings so that he could cuff him to the bed. The sound of disappointment that spread from Cheng's lips made him realize that he needed to be stimulated in some way, while he was working to prepare him as he preferred. He stood up and reached the bedside table, from which he took out a vibrator: that would keep him good for that little amount of time.

"Ooh ooh ooh, what impatient sub that we have here, huh?"

Those words Qiu told him while he just licked the tip. He did it sensually, just before inserting the vibrator into his sub's rectum. He put the vibration to the maximum and looked at him with a satisfied grin.

"This will keep you a little busy while I prepare you for sex. So I don't like you at all."

Cheng jerked at the vibration so loud and sudden, but he let go of the moans of pleasure, while he let Qiu momentarily free him of the strings. He let himself be monopolized freely, moving his buttocks a bit as if he wanted to feel the vibration better, even if at that moment he only wanted Qiu in himself. The strings now intertwined on his chest forming diamonds, intertwined at the height of the pubis and between his buttocks, but without touching his sex or testicles. On his back he returned to form rhombuses, and then wrapped himself around his wrists. He was taken by weight and brought to the height of the litter box, where he was forced to take it in his hands. He heard metal around both wrists and finally the sound of handcuffs closing around them and then around the headboard. He just chucked: now the games were getting interesting. He couldn't wait for Qiu to decide to fuck him. The albino did not take long to satisfy his desire: he took the end of the vibrator and took it off with a certain vehemence, while he was going to kiss Cheng. Even if he did not see his eyes, he could understand from his behavior, from how his body was stretched, from how it stiffened, all the expectation and a slight concern that permeated the other. Qiu stuck for a few moments, stroking only his nipples with his fingers.

"Master... please..."

The black haired carried his legs around his waist: it didn't matter what would happen, whether it would hurt him or not. He wanted to feel it so much within himself that he would be willing to impale himself alone on his member even if it would lead to punishment. He was sure that albino was grinning, he knew him very well; with the tip of the member he began to caress his rectum, but then penetrated it at once, with a strong blow of the kidneys.

He had entered very quickly, he had not found any resistance - it would have been strange for him, given how much he had prepared him between one thing and another - and indeed, Cheng had shown himself to be very warm and welcoming. He literally went crazy when he was like that.

"You're gonna drive me crazy sooner or later, you know that?"

Cheng would have liked to respond to that provocation, since it was HIM who made him crazy, but he could not give voice to his thoughts as he would have liked to. Qiu had started to move in him after a few fractions of a second, but that wasn't all: while he was giving more or less vigorous thrusts, he also began to suck his erect sex. It was something they had never done before, and with the combination of not seeing anything, the other senses were more developed.

Yet he liked all that, not having the power, not being able to do anything without the consent of his Master. It was hard for him to think about something else, his mind was clouded by what they were doing at that moment, those really strong emotions that kept shaking his body. He fumbled when his mouth moved away from his member, but was replaced by a finger that kept teasing him.

"Don't be afraid to come when you're at the limit without asking me. From this moment on you can do it as many times as you want."

It was true that he liked it when he begged him, but he didn't want to have to stop every time to announce that yes, he could come. The mouth soon returned around Cheng's upright member, as the thrusts increased in strength. He didn't get angry when he heard the mouth piens of Cheng's seed and even... swallowed a little of it, before kissing him and letting him taste his own forbidden fruit. For Qiu it was good, since it was the fruit of his only sub and that sub...

"-Cate..."

Qiu blinked at that half-word: did he really want him to try to suffocate him? How perverted could he be? "I don't think I heard it right, what would you like?" He stroked a cheek with his hand, waiting for him to rephrase the sentence.

"Please Master, suffocate me."

Then he felt his heart beating fast: did he really want to try it out? Some time before he had begged him not to try to do similar things and now... now he had changed his mind. Qiu slapped him a little bit, without really hurting him, but there was a grin on his face.

"Until some time ago you didn't want to try it, but now you come and ask me. You didn't watch any porn videos about it, did you?" At that moment the bandage that the other had on his eyes bothered him: he wanted to see in his face the expression of Cheng, how guilty he felt for what he had done. Already his sub's shudder as soon as he released the bandage, made him realize that he felt guilty.

"I... looked at a couple of them, Master. But... it was just because you seemed a little upset when I begged you not to do something like that last time and... I wanted to be informed and then decide." Cheng didn't dare to look him in the face at that moment: he made a mistake that time, he admitted, but it was a sudden request.

"..." At first, Qiu said nothing: various thoughts swirled around in his head. Since when had Cheng stopped trusting him or the practices they were doing? "Have I ever done... anything that you have lost faith in what we do?" He asked as he hit him with several well-settled thrusts, making him moan with pleasure rather than pain.

"No, Master, just that... Ah!... that practice seemed dangerous to me, although I know that you are always careful in everything we do.” The black haired covered his eyes with an arm: maybe he was wrong to say all that, since now the albino seemed wounded and angry.

"Fine... I'll grant your wish."

Even if he felt a little hurt, he was happy that his sub wanted to try that thing. It wasn't that important that he only decided after watching some videos.

Maybe, if he found something new to propose to him, he could have gotten some videos and watched them with him before the intercourse. He barely shook his head and put his hands on the blankets, starting to move quickly in him. Cheng's expression made him look more like an aphrodisiac: free from pleasure, not at all serious, but only the very rare one he addressed only to him, luxurious, enjoyable. He raised his back a bit from the mattress, bringing his legs towards his chest, so that he could penetrate him deeper. It was at that moment that he brought a hand to his neck, barely tightening the grip: the husband could not free himself, but Qiu would stop immediately if he saw him suffering or if he said the word they had established to stop those games.

The thrusts increased in strength and speed, as the climax raised. With his free hand he massaged his dick, making him reach an orgasm in a short time: he saw him arching his back, releasing a long moan of pleasure despite his short breath and Qiu had not even remotely finished. He would surely have many more before the end of the intercourse. Although he had handcuffed him to the headboard of the bed, Qiu turned his body around a bit, carrying one of his legs on his shoulders, while kissing him with passion. In that position he could better hit his weak spot and the moans coming out of his lips gave a perfect idea of how much he was enjoying it.

"M-master..."

Qiu didn't want to hear anything, so he kissed him again, loosening the grip on his neck. He wasn't strong, he didn't hold him, he kept it constant, but if he didn't feel comfortable, he wouldn't have made a fuss.

He only let him go completely when he brought him back to the position he had been in before. He wanted them to come together this time, and it wasn't long now. He took his member back into his mouth and, as he settled well-calibrated pushes, he began to suck and lick it with his tongue.

He got completely stuck in him when he couldn't hold back anymore: his hot seed filled Cheng, while his husband's filled his mouth shortly after. He didn't remember ever having an orgasm like that: it was really very intense. He took off slowly from him as soon as he stopped ejaculating: he must had come a long way because he noticed some semen coming out of his rectum. Instead, he swallowed his own and cleaned the cock with his tongue, finally removing his handcuffs and ropes.

"I don't know what it was, but today it was more intense than the other times." Cheng snuggled to his chest as Qiu laied down next to him. He felt really satisfied and exhausted, to tell the truth. "I really liked it a lot. Master."

"I liked it very much too. I agree that it was more intense. Thank you for putting up with this." He passed a hand through her man's short hair, smiling.

"I like the way we do it, leaving you the power. You don't have to thank me, I have to."

Qiu just laughed and came back to kiss him with impetuosity, caressing his muscular chest. Both of them felt happy to be husbands: with others, it wouldn't have been possible. That was certainly not the only time they did it that evening, only a little less fiery than before. In the end they fell asleep hugging each other, completely naked and, above all, satisfied and satisfied with all the sex they had had that night. The next day they would both work and Qiu had some games in mind for Cheng: this time no strings, or under Cheng's tight clothes would be seen, a vibrator anyway in his rectum, which he would have fun increasing the intensity of at will and a urethral probe, which would put him only later.

The next day the alarm clock rang early as usual for Qiu, who went on his morning run, returning to his room to change just as Cheng had just finished taking a quick shower.

The water still formed droplets on his abs, which descended on that perfect body, leaving obvious wet trails. Qiu barely swallowed, looking away: he didn't want to have sex already, even though the prospect was tempting.

"I'll take a quick shower too, wait for me before you get dressed, because I have something for you." He saw Cheng looking at him in amazement, but from his lips came out only one: "Okay Master."

He did as he had just told him: he went to the bathroom and locked himself in it, breathing deeply. He hadn't expected to find him in those conditions and it had already come to him hard at first sight. He took off his clothes slowly, after having opened the water and as soon as he took off the boxers he found himself with the member half erect in his hands. He quickly masturbated, finally coming on the shower tiles, which he then cleaned as soon as he finished washing himself. He put a towel around his waist and went back to his room. Cheng had done as Qiu had told him: he hadn't dressed and had just sat on the bed, waiting for his husband. A few drops were still present on her muscles, but Qiu tried to focus on what she wanted to do. She reached a box and removed a vibrator, urethral probe and lubricant from it. They didn't have time for foreplay, so he wanted to use the gel.

"Lie down with your chest on the mattress and show me your buttocks."

Cheng said nothing, but obeyed the orders: he had seen what Qiu had taken from the box and it already excited him, even if that meant he had to keep them at work. His hands shook with their fists on the sheets as soon as he heard his tongue lapping the outside of his rectum; he was already getting excited and it wasn't a good thing. His eyes were closed as Qiu poured lubricant on the vibrator, finally leading him to his entrance, which was waiting for nothing else. He felt it penetrate slowly, with a certain amount of attention, but it was not an annoying feeling: he knew, however, that it would not end there, that it would becoming activated sooner or later.

"You did well, now you can get dressed. I think about the rest in the office."

He gave him a small hit on a buttock, starting to get dressed: he had to put the urethral probe on later, or the vibrator would mess up, so he would take it with him, along with the lubricant. The vibrator didn't come out of his rectum too much, he had chosen it so knowingly, so no one would notice anything. Cheng also dressed, elegantly as usual, and luckily you couldn't really see anything. He had nothing special planned for that day: no meeting with Mr. Jian, no special missions that would require him outside his office, the most important thing he had to do was to be at some person's extortion. They got into Qiu's off-road vehicle and the albino had fun activating the vibration, even if it was at a minimum. He looked at him with a slight sneer as Cheng fastened his belt, hiding his discomfort. If he did so, he risked getting him to work with a swelling between his legs and he wouldn't look good that way. The vibration, however, was at a minimum, so it didn't stimulate much and he seriously hoped that Qiu wouldn't think of increasing it during the trip. The black haired's gaze moved between the road and his pants, too anxious that he might see something. It took them barely ten minutes to get to work, and only once after parking the off-road vehicle did Qiu momentarily turn off the vibrator.

"Stop worrying: you can't see anything. Come on."

They both got out of the car and entered the building together. Three hours passed before Qiu reactivated the vibrator without warning, which caused Cheng, who was fortunately alone in his office at the time, to shudder. It still took half an hour, with the vibrator increasing or decreasing in movement, before Qiu deigned to go to him. He said nothing, he just locked the door behind him, grinning amusedly. No one would bother them for a while, unless Mr. Jian showed up in person, or unless their own boss called Cheng. Qiu passed the fine wood desk and turned the chair over on wheels, so that Cheng would look at him. There was now a clear swelling in his pants, but he wasn't wet. He had been in those conditions for half an hour, how could he be dry? He approached him and raised his chin, caressing his pants' horse with his other hand. At that moment he was again the Master, since they were alone and caressed his lips with making lascivious.

"Now that everything is quiet, I would say that we can let ourselves go. We'll only be disturbed if Mr. Jian is coming to talk to you."

He decided to leave his erection alone and began to strip him of the white shirt he was wearing. He squatted, after placing his shirt behind his chair, and tinkered with the zipper and buttons. The trousers, along with the boxers, soon ended up on the ground, with the help of his husband, who had temporarily stood up. He licked his lips: he was looking forward to what would happen shortly afterwards. With delicate movements, in strong contrast with his character, he took the vibrator out of his rectum, making Cheng arch his back, with shivers of pleasure that shaken his spine. Resting his hand on his shoulder, he sat him down again and took the probe in his hand, as well as the gel. It was gel in sachets, so no one noticed anything or suspected anything. He knelt down again in front of Cheng and lubricated the probe, observing his husband's expression from time to time: he didn't seem to be afraid, more than anything, perhaps he already imagined the annoyance that he would have had in his face.

As soon as he was convinced that he had lubricated it enough, he put away the sachet and took the member with one hand, while with the other hand he began to insert the probe, about ten centimeters long and composed of several balls, always checking both the expression of the Moor and the way the probe entered. Now they could, definitively, open the dances.

"Are you all right? Except for the annoyance caused by the probe." He wanted me to let him know if it hurt or not. With certain things you couldn't joke about it.

"It's okay, don't worry. I don't feel bad, just strong excitement, which must then be satisfied." To convince him more that he could rest easy, he kissed him with passion, since his face was not far from his.

"These words really please me."

He felt relieved by them. He returned the kiss: with his tongue he began to lick his own, sometimes he ended up sucking it. The dance they did was very beautiful: it was very hasty, but at the same time kind and rough at the same time. There were constant changes in who kissed who, while Cheng's hands were traveling on Qiu's chest. Long and intense kisses alternated with simple impetuous kisses, their lips could not avoid to look for a riot even of slight bites that excited both men. Cheng came back down from the chair and stood in front of him: his hands from his chest went down to the black pants that the other one was wearing and they started to tinker with the belt. Unbuttoning and then lowering them took very little time: instead of them the white boxers signed Emporio Armani, with the silhouette of its member already erected, appeared. He also lowered those and looked up at her husband, smiling.

"It's not just me who's already excited, huh?"

He asked with a certain malice. Only after that question did he take his erection in his warm mouth: Qiu's black jersey tickled his forehead, and his hands went to massage the testicles of his Master. Qiu's breath had meanwhile begun to become heavy, almost tiring: his sub's hot mouth was engulfing him well and his tongue was doing a great job along the pole. Deciding that it was better to take off his shirt, he did so with fluid movements, while Cheng did the same with the shirt he wore, thus remaining both bare-breasted.

Qiu brought his hand to Cheng's nape giving him the rhythm he wanted: he had teased him well, now it was time for him to get busy. The black haired tried to look him right in the eye at that moment, with the expression free from excitement. The dick almost hurt him since he was becoming erect, but he could not come: it was precisely for what was needed that probe that Qiu had put him. He tried to bring his hand to sex, but Qiu immediately blocked it with one of his own. He moved Cheng's face away, slapping him on the cheek, then just shaking his hand around his neck and approaching his face with a threatening gesture.

"I have not given you permission to touch you, not to take such initiatives."

He could consider himself a sadist, but he wanted a good sub, not that he did what he wanted. He only let him go after he bit his lower lip, but bent down to get his husband's tie and tied his hands behind his back with it. He could have gotten rid of it easily, but he had nothing else within his grasp with which to do so. He did not give him an order, but his gaze was more than satisfactory in making him understand what he wanted from him.

Only then did he straightened himself out, take the nape of his neck again and he immediately welcomed his member into his mouth, letting himself be dictated by the rhythm, which alternated between fast and slow, as if Qiu wanted to teach a lesson to himself and to him. Every time Cheng barely moved away from his sex to breathe a moment, or because he himself did, his sex now came out of his mouth completely full of saliva.

They continued this way until Qiu felt at the height, but that time he didn't want to come into his mouth. He slapped Cheng a little, biting his earlobe, just panting at his ear. Cheng was doing nothing, yet he was still so attractive and provocative that he deserved nothing but punishment, but not that time. It was only when he moved away from him that he began to move his hands over his erection, which was directed at his face. Cheng opened his mouth waiting for the jets that soon came out, but that went to rest on his hair and cheeks.

Qiu stopped to observe him for several moments: damn it, now he was even more provocative, without even knowing it.

He took him by the arm and lifted him up with his help, then pushed him onto his desk. Luckily, nothing fell to the ground, but he still went to move the bulkiest things, finally returning to him.

He took him by the hips and brought him with his back to the edge of the desk and carried his legs towards his chest, thus exposing his buttocks and his rectum well. With his right hand he stroked his thighs and moved it until it reached his member. He felt him tremble under his touches, even when he barely touched the tip of the member, in fact he saw him arching his back, moaning loudly. He had become super sensitive at that moment, he was obvious and pleased. His free hand led it to his mouth, so that he licked his fingers, as he began to penetrate his rectum with his tongue. His fingers were vehemently sucked, not even if they were his member. That action also prevented moans from being heard too much, but his body did not betray him and it was clear that he could not stand it anymore.

"Master... may-"

He couldn't finish the question, because knocks at the door made him jerk: who was it? Qiu took his fingers out of his mouth and stood up, watching his husband sit on his desk.

"I'm busy, is it urgent?" Cheng asked without going to open. Qiu decided that it was better to take off his urethral probe and did so, after taking a handkerchief, by having Cheng bite his lip. His seed only went to dirty the paper handkerchief and only then did Qiu pass his things to him.

"Chief, Mr. Jian will be here in about ten minutes to talk to you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but it seemed appropriate to tell you.” The man waited for some order after his words.

"As soon as he arrives, let me know and accompany him here, thank you."

He received no answer, except for the steps of the man who moved away from there and only then he let himself go to a sigh of relief. He dressed quickly and furiously, while Qiu had already done so and looked at him a bit badly, but said nothing. He put himself in his best place, helped by his husband, who finally kissed him. The black haired, on the other hand, kissed him back, but soon after he left to clean his face, hide the vibrator... everything had to be in perfect order, nothing had to be out of place. When he finished, he looked around: Qiu seemed to have disappeared, yet he had not heard the door open. He sighed at Cheng, but didn't have time to look for albino, because the first voice announced that Mr. Jian had arrived. He had just made it in time, what luck. He opened the door and let his boss in, making him sit on the chair in front of the desk and only afterwards, he sat down in turn.

"I came here in person to talk about the case... "

Cheng didn't even have time to ask him if he didn't want something to drink, and the boss immediately began to explain everything. Cheng listened to him without a word, while he heard his thighs rise slowly, but then stopped at the height of the package. Cheng gulped to the bottom, listening carefully to the speech of his interlocutor. That was still nothing: they were simple caresses that didn't give him many reactions, but why had he jumped into the head of doing certain things at that moment? Just while he was talking to Mr. Jian...

He opened a drawer to get out documents and met Qiu's grin: it was malevolent, Cheng knew he would not stop there, but hoped not to arouse suspicion.

Qiu's hand began to move on his flap, especially on his resting member, even though he hadn't cum long before. Those touches already awakened his member, but Cheng didn't bother and, on the contrary, he kept taking notes and answering his boss's questions in complete tranquility. It was in one of those moments that Qiu, trying not to make noise, lowered the zip of his pants, moving even the boxers, to bring out his sex. He moved his hands around the pole, occasionally licking the tip of it, but then began to pass his tongue along the entire pole. He saw and felt Cheng's body stiffen, while he didn't listen at all to what the other two mafia men were talking about. Taking advantage of having to look at the documents, he met Qiu's gaze again: he silently asked him for mercy, but it was obvious that he would not have any, not even a little. The only thing he could hope for at that point was that the discussion would end soon, or he would not be able to avoid being discovered.

Mr. Jian passed him more paperwork he had to check, but he found it hard to concentrate with Qiu down there who had taken his member in his mouth. He really found himself rereading the same line at least three times before he had assimilated what was written in it and he just wanted to send both Qiu and Mr. Jian to that country. He chewed his lower lip several times so as not to risk moaning for pleasure: Qiu was really trying to drive him crazy in the presence of their leader. It was hot, very hot, but if he had even loosened his tie, the man sitting in front of him would have become suspicious and wanted to prevent it from happening.

Qiu's tongue washed his penis slowly, his head moved at the same speed, but it got faster and faster and Cheng felt really too excited.

He gave the cards back to the Boss, discussing some points, which he didn't really like, with him. Even if he could hold back the moans, it was difficult to mask the wheezing that was forming in his lungs. The glances that Mr. Jian gave him showed how much that man started to worry, but he didn't ask questions. Not that he cared about his best man's health, but he was sure that everything was fine. Qiu, for his part, in the middle of the discussion stopped with his face against his pants, while Cheng poured sperm into his mouth. In that position he captured any change in his husband's expression and felt him clearly jerking just before releasing his semen. Fortunately for Cheng, Mr. Jian had stood up at that very moment and reached the window, very close to the door. From there, he would never have noticed the presence of Qiu down there, while Cheng was barely twisting on his chair, due to his orgasm. For a few moments he crossed Qiu's eyes and sent him mentally to that country: it had been a very interesting feeling, but he had risked a lot at that point.

"Well, we're done. Thanks for discussing these things and if you feel bad, go home, Qiu can take care of the subordinates and the various work for you.” Mr. Jian said those words with carelessness, but it really seemed like he wasn't feeling well.

"Don't worry, Mr. Jian, I'm fine and I don't need to go home. I'll start working on these things right away."

So in the end he realized that something was wrong. He remained impassive, even though he felt totally embarrassed, which almost never happened. After swallowing everything, Qiu put it all right, so Cheng was able to accompany the Boss to the door, saying goodbye to him. He locked her up as soon as he couldn't hear her footsteps and turned, unsettled, towards Qiu.

"What the hell did you think of? Even take me to an orgasm while he was still-"

He wasn't able to finish since Qiu shut him up with a passionate kiss. He had well imagined that that would be Cheng's reaction, but he also knew very well that he had liked it and not a little. He took him back to his desk and, after breaking the kiss, threw Cheng back on his desk, stripping him of his clothes. He was certainly not over the desire to fuck him, and he would have done so. He licked his rectum, using two fingers to penetrate it, so that he could prepare it well. He wanted to take it sitting on its own, but he didn't want to hurt it, so he would have waited a few moments before doing it seriously. Cheng's moans did not spare themselves in coming out of his lips and Qiu put a handkerchief in his mouth, so as not to risk that his subordinates would hear him. Now he just wanted a good half hour to have sex with him, without any further interruption or he would go crazy. He lowered his pants and boxer, moving his hands over his own member, so that he would become erect again, and turned his husband around, carrying his head against the wood of his desk, while his backside was in the air. After taking off her shoes, he went up to her desk and, when he was standing, penetrated him with a stroke of his kidneys. The preparation had not been much that time, but it entered with a certain ease, without encountering any resistance.

Cheng moaned with pleasure, feeling it inside him: it was a feeling he had wanted to experience all that time and they had finally been able to get to that point. He felt it very deeply, every movement touched his prostate stimulating it more and more. He heard kisses and hickeys being left on his back and went to hide his face in his arm, because all that, at the time, was too much for him too. Qiu's pushes were getting more and more vigorous, Qiu had also started to masturbate him again and it didn't take him long to reach a first, intense orgasm. From there he would have come to that step at least ten times before finishing the intercourse, but he certainly didn't mind.

Having seen him reach orgasm, Qiu momentarily came out of his rectum, so that he could change position without causing him any pain. Cheng remained kneeling on his desk, but this time the upper part of his body was no longer leaning against the wood, he had to hold his hands. He was penetrated deeply again and looked for his husband's lips, after removing the handkerchief, so that she could kiss him.

That touch between their lips was another clash, another dance of their tongues, which continued to look for each other as if their lives were gone. It was full of cravings, desire, pleasure and the physical need to feel the other in some way their own.

At the moment they were having wild sex: the desk was not moving, but the movements and strokes were nice and strong and that was what they both had been waiting to do for a while. Qiu never seemed to want to reach orgasm, even though he was really too excited: he wanted to make Cheng feel really good, to take away any possible residue of strength that the other one still had in his body. At the end of the day, he could take care of the work, while making sure no one disturbed him. Cheng came again and again, his legs, even though he was kneeling, no longer held him, as did his arms. He really felt emptied of everything, too tired to say anything, when he finally heard Qiu's seed fill it. He too came, for the fifth time that morning, almost falling asleep on his desk. The albino instead poured entirely into him and eventually came out of his rectum, caressing her husband's back.

"Rest a couple of hours, I'll take care of everything and make sure no one comes to disturb you."

He was the first to come down from his desk and helped him with both that and dressing, finally having him lie down on the couch in the office. Looking in the closets he also found a blanket, with which he covered him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Cheng simply smiled at him, thanking him, closing his eyes while his Master was getting dressed, ready to fulfill his duties.

"Good rest, you've earned it."

#19 days #Brother Qiu #He Cheng #qiucheng #19 days old xian #old xian #old xian 19 days

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killjoy-loveit · 5 years ago

Text

Reality is Twofold- Pt. 2

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. Honestly… I love this request! It really pulled me in and was like ‘this is how you’re going to write it!’ This is the second part, you can find the link to the first part (as well as my masterlist links) in the notes. Hold up though, it’s not over yet- there will be a part 3!

Request: Yes, hello. I’m coming on anon for this request merely because I’m too shy, but I’d like to request a one shot or scenario - whichever you prefer, please :’) Female reader, any POV that you prefer, with Winner’s Mino, and for the trope - angst/smut, annnnnnnnd a mafia au if you’re okay with that, please and thank you. I’m so sorry if this is a lot; I don’t ever request fics, but I love your writing too much uwu

Word Count: 2,915

Genre: Angst, Mafia AU

*****WARNINGS: Violence, Blood, Mentions of Death, & MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT (very slightly, but still)*****

“Oh, I just had a lovely visitor come unannounced. However, I must admit your presence is unexpected, but very much welcome. Now I don’t have to call and report this.” I reply, sass seeping into my voice.

Mino stepped forward, just behind the man, glancing down and catching sight of his bleeding nose. “Surprise visitors? Those are always fun. Though it appears you had all the fun without me.” He says playfully with a pout.

“Fun? For me, yes. Him,” I tip the gun a bit in the man’s direction. “Not so much.”

Laughing drily, Mino’s eyes bored holes into the back of the man’s head, a devilish light taking hold in them. “Maybe we can play a bit more with him…” He squats down, hand reaching out to grasp the man’s hair and yanks his head to the side. “What do you say, man? You up for a little more fun?”

The man whimpers, a high-pitched sound of terror. “I-I’m sorry. I m-m-made a mistake. Please-.”

“How cute. Begging for mercy after coming here and pointing a gun at my head. You should’ve taken what happened to your brother as a warning,” I snarled, taking a step closer to him. “Nobody who messes with us stays alive.”

Hours later, the office was once again devoid of any unwanted visitors. All that was left was to clean up; the room was a bit… Well, it was a bit bloody. Having a blood-spattered office is not something I approve of, despite my line of work. I prefer a clean and organized working space, one that makes me feel calm and at ease. The kind that’s easy to focus in. My office is a complete one-eighty from the rest of the warehouse; soft and light, very relaxing. While it might not appear that my personality would fit such a room, it’s what I prefer over a dark and intimidating style.

Freeing the office of blood was a tedious process. A lot of scrubbing and bleach was involved. There were a few items that couldn’t be saved: my beautiful floral rug, a vanilla sweater that was hanging from the back of my chair, and the small plush calico cat I got from a friend who’d long since passed. However, I couldn’t bear to part ways with the small plush toy, so I put it in a ziplock bag to take home. A few stacks of papers had blood smattered across them, those were going to have to be reprinted or re-written for the record books.

Exhaustion was beginning to cloud my head as I walked around, double checking to see if Mino and I missed any spots while cleaning. Currently I was in the office by myself, he had gone to take care of the body. Sitting down after finishing my third lap of the room, I sighed, elbows resting on my knees as I ran my hands through my hair. Dealing with death is nothing new, it shouldn’t be getting to me this much. Maybe it’s because something about his desperation resonated within me. He was so desperate to avenge his brother- a person he loved with his entire being, so much so that he risked his life in the pursuit of revenge. A risk that ultimately failed him.

There were times I wished I could go after the man who robbed me of my youngest brother. I even had an opportunity at one point, to take him down. My gun was millimeters from his face, finger on the trigger. But I was stopped. The boss needed him alive, “for the good of the family,” he said. It was a load of bullshit, it wasn’t for the good of the family. He just wanted control of the man who killed my little brother, because the guy held the reins of a significant drug operation. Since the boss had more than enough information to send him to jail, he had to obey or get sent to jail. Who would choose jail?

It would’ve been easy to take over the guy’s operation, it was low-scale and his crew was easy to sway. We could’ve swooped in, claiming it as our own and run the operation without him. But no, under the boss’ order he was to remain unharmed. Multiple times I thought about defying orders, seeking out my revenge despite the cost. I couldn’t though, I am exactly what I was raised to be: a loyal little soldier who obeys orders no matter what. Or instead a mindless chess piece, a mere pawn awaiting instruction. Sometimes I feel that’s all I’ll ever be. I won’t have any progression towards thinking on my own, being my own person. I’m just someone who will always be controlled.

Mino’s appearance at the doorway pulled me from my dark thoughts. He wrung his hands for a moment, looking at the floor before flicking his eyes up to me. “Are you okay? It looks like something’s on your mind.”

A bitter laugh forced its way past my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just pissed about having to redo a bunch of work.”

“I can have someone else do it. Maybe you should take a couple days off. You’re always here working, you should take a break. I’ll make sure your job gets done.” He suggests, moving closer to the center of the room.

The way the light hits his eyes, creates the feeling that maybe I could fall deep enough into them to disappear. Wouldn’t that be beautiful? Sinking into a place where I might disappear from all others but be held so gently by one.

As these thoughts swirled about my mind, he moved closer, until he was mere inches from me. “Let me take you home.” Mino’s voice was soft and his face held a rare tenderness.

Normally, I push my impulses away. This time I didn’t. No hesitation, no second thoughts. No time for regrets. I just stood up, hands reaching out and grasping onto the back of his neck, and pulled his face close to mine. His eyes widened considerably just before our lips touched. But it appears it didn’t stun him too much, because not even a second later his arms wrapped around my waist. There was nothing gentle or slow about the kiss. It was fuelled by desperation, lust, and longing.

Kissing him was like dancing with fire. Exciting, hot, and it held the risk of getting burned if too close. I was a wick waiting to get lit, and he was the flame that set me ablaze. Lips feverishly pressed together, heated breaths, hooded eyes. Hands pushing at clothes that seemed impossible to remove, the light feathery sound from when they eventually met the floor. Quiet moans, heads thrown back, and open mouths.

The firm desk pressing against my lower back, legs wrapped around his waist, hands clutching his shoulders. Harsh thudding from the desk continually hitting the wall by our movements. The slick sheen of sweat coating skin. A peak that was so close yet so far away. Until it came careening out of nowhere. Nails digging into skin, choked cries of pleasure. Breathless panting as racing hearts calmed themselves.

“Wow, that was… Amazing.”

I grab my shirt, pulling it over my head before responding. “Yeah, it was.” Tugging my pants up, I continue, eyes locked on the floor in front of me. “I need to get back home. Does your offer to drive me still stand?”

“Yes, yes, definitely still stands.” Mino replies, voice warm like honey.

The walk to his car was a tad awkward, at least from my position. I was already berating myself for sleeping with him- I was just asking to get hurt at this point. But from what I could see, Mino seemed pretty happy with what just happened. He couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to break his face even if he tried. As the car set off, headlights shining brightly in the dark night, his hand reached over and grasped mine. Fingers becoming intertwined, and it felt like my heart constricted in my chest.

Maybe he was being dense. Or maybe he was just oblivious. After all he had been flirting with me for the past week since the party and I had just slept with him. The air around him exuded a relaxed contentment, one that held no worry. No fear of what might come next. I wish I could feel half of that. I itched to pull my hand from his, this was too much. We only slept together, it’s not like we committed to each other. How can anyone even think of committing to someone else if they live in such a dangerous world?

The second the car rolled to a stop in front of my apartment building I slipped out with a quick word of thanks for the ride. Before he could react I was off, darting towards the glass doors at the building’s entrance. Once I was in the elevator, safely away from his eyes, I leaned against the side wall. My hands curled into my hair, tugging at it lightly in frustration. What was I thinking? Sleeping with him? I must be out of my mind. I just completely went against everything I stand for- I got involved.

An electronic ding alerted me that I had reached my floor, and I made my way to my apartment in a daze. I moved about on auto-pilot, getting ready for bed without much effort. In the shower the water was turned on full heat, I needed to erase him from me. I could still feel him all over my body, like he was right next to me, caressing my skin softly. His words so gentle and passionate in my ears. What I hated the most was that I enjoyed it and I wanted it to happen again. My traitorous body was already craving him again.

Dragging my hands through my hair, I saw his smile clearly printed in my mind. It was quick, a single tear slipped down my cheek. Then another, and another, until I was fully sobbing in the shower. Choked sobs and hiccups bounced against the tile, echoing throughout the room. Mino read more into this than he should have. And now I have to smash the happy image he holds of a future together. I’m going to hate seeing the smile leave his face.

A loud knocking at my door woke me up from a deep slumber. My body felt too stiff, limbs heavier since I wasn’t fully awake. I stumbled out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I trudged out of my bedroom and to the front door of my apartment. Yanking the door open, I blearily stared at the person whose hand was raised in preparation to knock again.

“I’m here! Who are you to be knocking so loudly this early-.” My mouth shut abruptly as I finally took in who was standing in front of me. “Mino,” I breathed out in shock. “What are you doing here?”

The only answer he gave me was a grin as he brought a paper bag into my line of sight before sweeping past me and into my apartment. “I brought breakfast.” Accounting for the time, he appeared to be much too chipper this early in the morning. “I figured you hadn’t eaten since maybe eight last night.”

Shutting the door, I turned around to follow him with my head tilted slightly in confusion. “Yes, and? That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I wanted to bring you breakfast, is that clear enough?” Mino replied with a chuckle. “Besides, you left so quickly after I dropped you off we didn’t have time to talk. I thought maybe we could talk over breakfast.”

I blinked slowly, staring at him as he started to unpack the bag of food onto my coffee table. The aroma of bacon hit my nose and cause my belly to let out a loud rumble. I guess food isn’t such a bad idea, especially since it smells so good. Humming gently I took a seat beside him on the couch, reaching out for one of the wrapped goodies. I mumble out a muffled word of thanks around the food shoved into my mouth. Avoiding his eyes while we eat is a difficult task as I feel his gaze burning into me.

Mino takes a swig from his coffee cup, sets it down on the table and then turns to face me. “You ran off pretty fast last night, I wanted to talk.”

I take in a deep breath, setting down my food. “I had a lot on my mind.” I whisper, my eyes slowly traveling to meet his.

“I understand, everything happened pretty fast. Honestly, I was hoping last night would be the start of something. What do you think?” He asks, his hand reaching out to gently grasp mine.

My heart seizes in my chest. With the way he’s looking at me, it feels like the words have turned to stone in my throat. “I don’t think,” I murmur, pulling my hand from his and motion between us. “That this is a good idea.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m not… It’s just-.” I huff in frustration and stand up. “I don’t want to get into a relationship. It’s not something I want right now- actually it’s not something I want ever. If you want something purely physical, I might be able to do that as long as it’s without strings.”

Mino gets to his feet, walking over to me. “What’s so wrong with the strings? You have to know that I don’t want just the physical aspect of a relationship with you.”

Looking away from his intense stare, I grit my teeth before responding. “I’m well aware of what you want, but I can’t do that. I can’t be that person for you.”

“Why not?” He reaches out and tilts my head so that I’m looking at him again. “I want to understand why.”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“What is?”

“Getting involved. Don’t you get it?” I ask, my voice raising, hands waving in front of me as I jerk back from him.

Taking a step back, his head tilts slightly and it’s clear to see he’s getting frustrated. “You aren’t making any sense. How is getting involved dangerous?”

“How can you not understand it? I know you’ve lost people too! Did their deaths not affect you?” My chest heaved as I continued, arms moving around helplessly. “I’m already attached to too many people, people who could die any day! Everyone around us ends up dead sooner or later. I can’t get involved with you romantically because the chances of you getting killed are higher than anybody else! If we got involved it would only end in pain, and that’s something I can’t take.”

Each word that spilled from my mouth showed my inner thoughts, my worries. They held the immense fear that’s been building my entire life. The entire reason why I tend to be emotionally shut off around other people. I’d never told anybody these thoughts, keeping them trapped in my mind for years. But it seems the chain broke with his incessant tugging and the truth came tumbling out. Now I stood five feet from him, breathing rapid, eyes wide and panicked. At this point I probably resembled a wild animal that had been cornered.

Mino took a step forward, giving me an incredulous look. Instinctively I stepped back. “You think I don’t know people can die at any second? I know better than anyone how someone can be there one minute and be gone the next!” His hands clenched at his sides. “But you know what I’ve learned from it? My life is made better by those I have in my life, and knowing they might die at anytime has made me cherish them all the more.”

“Well good for you. I guess I’m just not as tough or philosophical as you are.” I sneer at him, crossing my arms defensively.

“No, it looks like you’re not. If you keep letting your fear rule you what kind of a life are you living? What is it worth if you refuse to let yourself connect with people?” He shakes his head as he turns around, walking towards the door.

“At least I won’t end up getting hurt!” I shout at his back.

Pausing for a second, halfway to the door, he spins around to face me. “I would have understood if you just told me you weren’t interested in me, but this?” He questions, his hand sweeping out in the air. “Cutting yourself off from people because you don’t want to get hurt when they die? That doesn’t sound brave or noble to me, it sounds like a coward’s way out. And anything worth having will always run the risk of ending in pain.” Mino goes quiet, clearly disappointed.

Despite everything I had just said, everything I still believed to be true, it hurt watching him walk out the door. It felt like I just threw away something important. Deep in my heart, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Am I just a coward? Sinking to the floor, I clutch my knees to my chest, tears beginning to leak from the corners of my eyes. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the potential pain is worth it. Maybe I really am a coward.

#winner #winner scenarios #winner mino #winner mino scenarios #winner fanfic #winner request #winner mino request

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tumblrwrites · 6 years ago

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It was so cold. So, so cold. The blistering, biting feeling of the below freezing temperatures was unbearable, but there was nothing else that could be done. They were being marched to their death, with U.S. soldiers pointing their large rifles at the group in case anyone got any ideas about escaping. The carcasses of their fellow Indians littered the ground, young and old alike having succumb to disease, the cold, starvation, and whatever else was willing to cause the Grim Reaper to take them to the depths of the afterlife. It was as if Hell had taken over the Earth itself and then decided to freeze over.

Some silently mourned the loss of their fellow tribesmen, while others wailed and sobbed loudly, heartbroken by the macabre and horrifying sights of their fellow Indians lying on the ground, dead or dying. A few brave folks decided the best course of action would be to attack the soldiers that were tasked with walking them to their inevitable demises. Those poor souls had their brains splattered all over the snowy ground. It was sad, brutal, and cruel, but the upside was that their suffering had ended, at least…

Most of them simply did as they were told, even though they were being wronged so very clearly. They had made an appeal to the Supreme Court, and the Supreme Court said they could stay, but…tyrants will always be tyrants, no matter what the letter of the law says. Obviously, laws, checks, and balances didn’t matter to President Jackson, but, hell, what could any of them do? He had the support of his country and the power of the military behind him. Opposing that crazy, crotchety old fuck would only result in you being jailed, dead, or worse. So, they simply marched their way through the freezing, treacherous, long-winding path of doom that they were being forcibly walked down without any supplies or help, simply trying to make it to tomorrow on this trail of tears.

Then, something unexpected and odd happened...the group stopped abruptly. When I say group, that meant everyone had stopped. The soldiers, the Indians…you name it. Everyone had halted the death march to Oklahoma, and they all began looking around curiously. There were vaguely animalistic sounds that could be heard in the background, seemingly of a shrieking/hissing nature. It sounded raspy and thick, and very eerie indeed.

Eventually, the Indians began to panic as the noise became closer and closer to the group’s location. They all began backing up and they looked as though the Indians were going to make a break for it. The soldiers became confused and irritated, ordering the Indians back, even threatening to shoot them where they stood if they kept their fearful antics up. But even the soldiers seemed as they wanted to leave this shithole of a place. Not because it was a shithole (well, that was, admittedly, part of the reason), but because the Indians were getting riled up, and the soldiers were hearing what it was they feared too.

A shadowy figure began approaching them at a blindingly fast speed. It was almost like a blur. That’s how quick it had jumped out of the woods it had been hiding in. Well, sort of hiding in, anyways. Its screeching and roaring gave it away. Not that the damn being given away was going to save them all now. They were completely and utterly…well, fucked.

The thing that ran towards them all was a true oddity of nature and everything that had been known to exist. A most unholy sight, indeed. Imagine, if you will, an elk. Now make that elk so starved that its joints and bones and ribcage can be seen with ease, and its fur has eroded to slight bristles, with the smell of rotting, decaying flesh accompanying it. A very undead look, if you will. Cover it in blood, give it fangs and claws bigger than human legs, make it 12 feet tall and bipedal, and color its eyes a soulless, zombie-like milky white. Oh, and don’t forget to give it an irresistible, unrelenting for that most taboo and unholy of meals: human flesh.

Some folks referred to it as “The Tall Man”, or maybe some variation of its name, such as Wee-Tee-Go, Windiga, etc. However…almost everyone knew of it as simply…The Wendigo.

The soldiers looked on in terror as the Indians ran away, screaming and hollering in terror, desperately trying to escape the clutches (or rather jaws) of this monstrous, demonic, deformed beast of burden. It reared its ugly head and opened its gaping maw, letting out a deafening, primal roar before swiping its claws wildly at every human in its sight, tearing and ripping them apart with ease. Blood was spilled everywhere, in a similar manner to how tea was dumped into Boston’s harbor all those years ago, entrails were strewn about like party decorations meant for the birthday of a small, hyperactive child, bones had been crushed into dust, almost like a fine, soft powder. Like grains of sand or bits of flour. It…it was truly a terrifying sight to witness. The mouth of the monster tore off limbs of carcasses and swallowed them whole, digging its claws into any would be escapees before eating them alive.

The screams of terror and pain that erupted from the soldiers and Indians alike filled the air and resonated throughout the cold trail, the heavily wooded areas echoing both the roars of the elk-thing that was busy devouring the people, and the screams of the folks who were being held at the mercy of the ever-hungry Wendigo, who didn’t intend to show them any type of mercy on this particular day, which meant that there were no survivors…except one.

An old woman, who sat cowering at the edge of the trail as she whimpered and pleaded for the monstrous thing to spare her from the gory death that she was fated to receive. But her pleas for mercy fell on very deaf ears. Ears that ignored her cries and whimpers. All they heard was her screams of terror and pain as it tore into her stomach and disemboweled her with its mouth…

#Literature #Submission #Writing #submission

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years ago

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18th December >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 1:18-24 for 18th December (Tuesday, Third Week of Advent): ‘You must name him Jesus’.

18th December (Tuesday, Third Week of Advent)

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 1:18-24

How Jesus Christ came to be born

This is how Jesus Christ came to be born. His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph; but before they came to live together she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph; being a man of honour and wanting to spare her publicity, decided to divorce her informally. He had made up his mind to do this when the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son and you must name him Jesus, because he is the one who is to save his people from their sins.’ Now all this took place to fulfil the words spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son

and they will call him Emmanuel,

a name which means ‘God-is-with-us.’ When Joseph woke up he did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do: he took his wife to his home.

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 1:18-25

Jesus was born of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, a son of David.

This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

which means “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home. He had no relations with her until she bore a son, and he named him Jesus.

Reflections (6)

(i) 18th December (Tuesday, Third Week of Advent)

When we hear the term ‘annunciation’, we think of the annunciation of the birth of Jesus by the angel Gabriel to Mary, which is to be found in Luke’s gospel. There is another story of the annunciation of the birth of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel. Once again, an angel of the Lord announces the birth of Jesus, but, in Matthew’s version, the announcement is made to Joseph, not to Mary. Indeed, whereas it is Mary who is prominent in the various stories relating to the birth of Jesus in Luke’s gospel, in Matthew’s gospel, it is Joseph who is the more prominent one in the stories relating to the birth of Jesus. It is just one example of how the particular perspective of each gospel complements and enriches the perspectives of the other gospels. In our gospel reading, the angel announces the birth of Jesus to Joseph after he discovers that Mary is pregnant. Joseph was betrothed to Mary but they hadn’t come to live together as husband and wife. What was Joseph to think? His solution was to divorce her quietly, being sensitive to her situation, while being realistic about what had happened. The annunciation to Joseph was with a view to enlightening him as to what had really happened, ‘she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit’. Joseph was floundering until that moment. He speaks to our own experience as people of faith. We too can flounder when it comes to knowing what the best and decent thing to do is, what the Lord is asking of us. Our initial decision, well intentioned as it may be, is not always the best one. Like Joseph, we sometimes need the Lord’s guidance to take the path which is best for all. We can be sure of receiving it, if we ask for it in prayer.

And/Or

(ii) 18th December

When we hear the term the ‘Annunciation’ we probably think of the story of the angel Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary in the gospel of Luke. This is the scene that has captured the imagination of artists all through the centuries. In Matthew’s gospel, however, there is no annunciation to Mary, but there is an annunciation to Joseph. That is the gospel reading we have just heard. In Luke’s gospel, the angel Gabriel says to Mary, ‘Do not be afraid’. In Matthew, the nameless angel says to Joseph, ‘Do not be afraid’. God was doing something new, something extraordinary, in the life of Mary and of Joseph, indeed, in the life of the human race. The unprecedented nature of what God was doing led to understandable fear and anxiety in the lives of those most directly affected, Mary and Joseph. Both of them needed a word of reassurance, ‘Do not be afraid’ at the beginning of this new phase of what God was doing. In times of transition when disturbing events are occurring around us, we all need to hear those words, ‘Do not be afraid’. They are words which assure us of God’s presence, God-with-us, Emmanuel, at the heart of all that is happening, even at the heart of Calvary.

And/Or

(iii) 18th December

Joseph features very prominently in Matthew’s telling of the story of the birth and childhood of Jesus. In this morning’s gospel reading, Joseph finds himself in a dilemma. Although betrothed to Mary and, therefore, legally husband and wife, they had not yet lived as husband and wife together and, yet, Mary was pregnant with child. This was a less than ideal situation for Joseph and he tried to do the decent thing by intending to divorce Mary quietly and informally. It was only subsequently that it was revealed to Joseph that Mary’s pregnancy was miraculous, the work of the Holy Spirit. Her child would be legally his but would be God’s child in a unique way. We often find ourselves, like Joseph, in situations that are not ideal. Things turn out in a way that we had not intended and had not wanted. We can be thrown by the unexpected course of events and we wonder what we should be doing. Sometimes what is asked of us is to do the decent thing, the good thing, the generous and noble thing. In doing that much, we open ourselves up to the Lord’s presence and to his life-giving work. In time he can reveal to us the good in the situation that we did not originally see.

And/Or

(iv) 18th December

In Matthew’s account of the birth of Jesus it is Joseph who features prominently, rather than Mary as is the case in Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus. In the history of art, Joseph tends to be depicted as an older man. In reality, he must have been a young, vibrant man, not much older than his young betrothed, Mary. He is described in this morning’s gospel reading as a ‘man of honour’. A more literal translation would be a ‘just man’. However, his was a justice that was tempered by mercy. Having discovered that Mary, his legal wife at the time, was pregnant with child before they had come to live together, the justice of the Jewish Law would have permitted Joseph to expose Mary publicly, and the consequences for Mary would have been very serious. Instead, Joseph decided to divorce her informally and quietly. He showed that quality of mercy that would characterize Jesus’ interpretation of the Jewish Law. It was subsequently announced to Joseph, by an angel, that Mary had conceived her child through the Holy Spirit and that she had not been unfaithful to Joseph. In obedience to the word of the angel, Joseph immediately took Mary to his home as his wife. Joseph is someone we can identify with in many ways. We resonate with his struggle to do the right thing, the decent thing, the good thing in the complex circumstances that life often throws up. In this struggle he was clearly open to God’s guidance and that openness ensured that, in the end, he did what God wanted of him. We can all learn from this good and decent man.

And/Or

(v) 18th December

Joseph features very prominently in the story of Jesus’ birth that we find in Matthew’s gospel. Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth places more of a focus on Mary. In this morning’s gospel reading from Matthew, Joseph is portrayed as finding himself in a very confusing and awkward situation. Although betrothed to Mary, they have not yet come to live together as husband and wife, and, yet, he discovers that Mary is with child. He can only conclude that Mary has broken the sixth commandment. In this situation his basic decency shows itself in his desire to divorce her in a way that protected Mary and spared her publicity. In those few verses, Matthew gives us a sense of Joseph as a decent man, a good man who seeks to do the very best in a difficult situation that was not of his making. A messenger from the Lord, that allowed Joseph to understand the real reason for Mary’s pregnancy. She conceived what was in her by the Holy Spirit. Once again, Joseph shows his decency, his fundamental goodness, his deep faith, in going on to do what the angel has instructed him to do, take Mary home as his wife. Reading that gospel story, we sense that Jesus was very fortunate to have such a special man for his father throughout his formative years. Joseph’s deeply rooted faith which shaped his character must have had a hugely formative impact on the child Jesus, enabling him to grow in wisdom and in favour before God and others. Joseph can be an inspiration to us all. He reminds us that we are all called to help the Lord to grow in each other. Our own goodness, decency and faith can be a very significant force for good in the lives of others. As we grow in our own relationship with the Lord, we are helping others to do the same, without us always realizing it.

And/Or

(vi) 18th December

In today’s gospel reading we find Joseph struggling to do the right thing, what he believed God wanted of him. Mary’s unexplained pregnancy left him in a very difficult situation. Presuming that her pregnancy indicated she had been unfaithful to him, Joseph found himself torn between what he understood God’s law required him to do, viz. divorce Mary, and his own affectionate feelings for her. In this confusing situation, the gospel reading tells us that Joseph received guidance from the Lord, - guidance he promptly followed. The complex situation in which Joseph found himself is not unlike the kind of situations in which many of us find ourselves from time to time. In so many of life’s situations the best way forward is not always immediately clear. Like Joseph in the gospel reading, we can find ourselves torn between what our head is telling us and what our heart is saying to us. The gospel reading today invites us to have something of the openness of Joseph to the Lord’s guidance. Joseph received the Lord’s guidance through an angel. The Lord’s guidance will come to us through more ordinary means, such as through those in whom we confide. Their perspective on the situation we are struggling with can often bring a new and a fresh light. We can also experience the Lord’s guidance through prayer. In prayer we allow the Lord to enlighten our minds and hearts so that we can move forward in the light that he provides.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 4 years ago

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18th December >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 1:18-24 for The 18th December: ‘She has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit’.

18th December

Gospel (Except USA)

Matthew 1:18-24

How Jesus Christ came to be born

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son and they will call him Emmanuel,

a name which means ‘God-is-with-us.’ When Joseph woke up he did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do: he took his wife to his home.

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 1:18-25

Jesus was born of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, a son of David.

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,

Reflections (8)

(i) 18th December

On the 8th December, Pope Francis issued an Apostolic Letter called “With a Father’s Heart”, in which he recalls the 150th anniversary of the declaration of Saint Joseph as Patron of the Universal Church. To mark the occasion of this Apostolic Letter, Pope Francis proclaimed a “Year of Saint Joseph” from 8th December 2020, to 8 December 2021. In his Apostolic Letter, the Pope describes Saint Joseph as a beloved father, a tender and loving father, an obedient father, an accepting father; a father who is creatively courageous, a working father, a father in the shadows. He wrote the letter against the backdrop of the Covid-19 pandemic, which, he says, has helped us see more clearly the importance of “ordinary” people who, although far from the limelight, exercise patience and offer hope every day. In this, the Pope says, they resemble Saint Joseph, whom he describes as “the man who goes unnoticed, a daily, discreet and hidden presence,” and, yet, played “an incomparable role in the history of salvation.” In today’s gospel reading, Joseph consents to become the father of the child of his betrothed, Mary, a child conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit. The gospel reading suggests that, when he first heard the news of Mary’s pregnancy, he decided to divorce her informally. He didn’t understand initially what God was asking of him. When he realized that what he had planned to do was not what God was asking him to do, he submitted completely to God’s will for his life, which was to immediately take Mary home as his wife. Like Joseph, we can all struggle to know and to do what God is asking of us. We can begin to go down a path which is not God’s desire for us, just as Joseph did. However, Joseph shows us that if we keep on seeking after what God is asking of us, God will somehow reveal his will to us. Joseph had to discern over time what God was asking of him, and that can be true of us all. In our efforts to discern God’s will, God’s desire, for our lives, Saint Joseph can be a good companion, someone we can turn to in prayer, for help with our discerning.

And/Or

(ii) 18th December

And/Or

(iii) 18th December

And/Or

(iv) 18th December

And/Or

(v) 18th December

And/Or

(vi) 18th December

In today’s gospel reading we find Joseph struggling to do the right thing, what he believed God wanted of him. Mary’s unexplained pregnancy left him in a very difficult situation. Presuming that her pregnancy indicated she had been unfaithful to him, Joseph found himself torn between what he understood God’s law required him to do, viz. divorce Mary, and his own affectionate feelings for her. In this confusing situation, the gospel reading tells us that Joseph received guidance from the Lord, which he promptly followed. The complex situation in which Joseph found himself is not unlike the kind of situations in which many of us find ourselves from time to time. In so many of life’s situations the best way forward is not always immediately clear. Like Joseph in the gospel reading, we can find ourselves torn between what our head is telling us and what our heart is saying to us. The gospel reading today invites us to have something of the openness of Joseph to the Lord’s guidance. Joseph received the Lord’s guidance through an angel. The Lord’s guidance will often come to us through more ordinary means, such as through those in whom we confide. Their perspective on the situation we are struggling with can often bring a new and a fresh light. We can also experience the Lord’s guidance through prayer. In prayer we allow the Lord to enlighten our minds and hearts so that we can move forward in the light that he provides.

And/Or

(vii) 18th December

As we are only a week away from the feast of Christmas, the gospel readings for this week focus on the events associated with the birth and childhood of Jesus. This morning’s gospel reading is Matthew’s account of the annunciation of the birth of Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, the annunciation of Jesus’ birth is made to Mary; in Matthew’s gospel, it is made to Joseph. Artists have tended to depict Luke’s version of the annunciation to Mary much more often than Matthew’s version of the annunciation to Joseph. In both accounts, the angel announces that Mary is to conceive her child through the Holy Spirit. In both accounts there is a rich description of the unique identity of the child. Matthew’s account of the annunciation highlights two aspects of the identity of Mary’s child. He is to be named Jesus, a name which means in Hebrew ‘the Lord saves’, because he is to save God’s people from their sins. He is also to be named Emmanuel, which is Hebrew means ‘God is with us’. Combining these names indicates that Jesus is the presence of the loving mercy of God. When we look upon this child, we are looking upon God with us, or as Saint Paul says, God for us, working to reconcile us to himself. Jesus was born, lived and died, to reconcile us to God, to lead us back to God. At the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before his death, the last supper, he said, ‘this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins’. It is because Jesus is the face of God’s mercy that we celebrate his birth with such gladness and hope. He has shown us that nothing need come between us and the love of God.

And/Or

(viii) 18th December

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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grolierpoetry · 7 years ago

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The Peacock Poems

by Sherley Anne Williams

" The Peacock Poems, Sherley Anne Williams' first book of poetry, was nominated for a National Book Award. A former senior Fulbright lecturer at the University of Ghana and visiting professor at the University of Southern California and Cornell University, Williams is professor of literature at the University of California at San Diego. She had received an Emmy Award for a television performance of her poetry. She is advisory editor of Callaloo and Langston Hughes Review. Williams was graduated from California State University (B.A. 1966) and Brown University (M.A. 1972). Her home is in San Diego."

-Wesleyan University Press

"Here is a craftswoman of chiseled strength, of total honesty, an orchestrator; she has the language and idiom command of Bessie Smith, a literate human singer."

-Micheal Harper.

Same Bird

by David McCann "Whether capturing an everyday moment at home in Massachusetts or exploring the back streets of Seoul or Florence, David McCann writes with equal reverence and sensitivity to precisely the details that matter most. Spare, inviting, and exquisitely rendered."

- Susan Antolin

"David McCann's book Same Bird is a pleasure to read -- first page to last. This is a book of nature and travel, of memory, of both love and loss, of a life well-lived. Amid the "remembrance of things past", there's a section of artful haiku and many poems about Korea: a country McCann has studied and a place he's lived. If I tell you that in a poem titled "Metaphor", McCann writes that flowers and gardens are stand-ins for the deep revelation that "she was ink to his darting brush,/their story grew down the white street". you will surely feel, as I do, that you must have this book."

-Susan Terris "A poetic trip through memories, places and the joy of writing."

-Jean Dany Joachim

Under the Influence of Blackbirds

by Sharon M. Van Sluys

"A strong new voice, the poetry of Sharon Van Sluys is of heartland America, a pastureland free of pastoral Illusion - her high voltage lines crackle in charged night air, her rich cadences pulled by the dark undertow of desire. These poems move in memory, like her "Big Dogs Running with the Night in their Eyes," half-wiled/half-domesticated, "of hyphenated breeding"; or like the "blackbirds that rested in this little tree/yesterday, their swarm of voices violent and dense," they leave the air changed behind them: "this air after blackbirds. And it is not, no, not the same air, not at all the same."

-Eleanor Wilner

"Sharon Van Sluys is obsessed with the "things" of this world, but she also has a way of "breaking free," and it is that breaking free that her poetry consists of. She says it's 'a real small something, almost/nothing almost," but that "nothing" constitutes a serious, concerned, and lovely poetry, which I have had the pleasure of reading, and urge you to read."

-Gerald Stern

Hoodlum Birds

by Eugene Gloria

"In Eugene Gloria's acclaimed first collection of poems, Drivers at a Short Time Motel, ephemeral lives, and souls lost in the tattered fabric of war, displacement, and ruined love, found hope, redemption, and a common voice. Gloria is interested in illustrating the common man's search for connection to the self and to the world, and that is very much apparent in his second collection. The speaker of these poems examines his lapsed Roman Catholic identity and his past; Spain, and its long and varied influence on Filipino culture; and the famous pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. These new poems build on what Gloria began in his first book by continuing this sense of collaboration with literary and cultural influence."

-Penguin Press

"With language both sacerdotal and utterly contemporary, Eugene Gloria's compelling new book complicates in important and helpful ways our poetic understanding of nature and self, life and art, faith and transcendence, race and erasure."

-Andrew Hudgins

The Artist and the Crow

by Dan Stryk

"Set in a variety of landscapes, this collection of poems blends diverse cultural experiences through the poet's unifying eye: the watchful, patient eye of the crow. The poet's sympathetic vision shows his love for the physical world through which he moves and for the humanity he encounters. In the first two sections, Cornlands and London Poems, the collection moves from the cornbelt of rural Illinois to a modern vision of Samuel Johnson's bustling London. Within the third section, Scenes from a Tragicomedy, the poems shift to a variety of locations and are sometimes rooted in conceptual landscapes. Finally in Of Blight and Faith, the poet's tone grows more sober, reserved, and personal as he speaks of human courage and affirmation in a world frequently swirling with chaos."

-Purdue University Press

"Dan Stryk's poems possess a fine power of evocation-of places and objects, or persons and other living things. A reader finds landscapes or settings, and their inhabitants, that come alive in richly textured but unvarying precise language, guided too by a firm, rhythmic and musical sense. These poems always want us to see as clearly, as justly as possible, and their compassionate feelings move in accord with this desire. With his first full collection, Dan Stryk shows himself an accomplished, mature poet-a pleasure to discover."

-Ralph J. Mills, Jr.

Black Wings

by Len Roberts

"Len Roberts is a poet of unwavering truthfulness and unwavering mercy-somehow the mercy always equal to the truth. I love Black Wings for its emotional courage, its powerful music, and its deep balance. When I read these poems, I feel as if my heart's being broken and put back together."

-Sharon Olds

"A haunting collection....These poems are models of indirect statement, talking tirelessly in run-on lines that do not allow stanza breaks, as if to pause for breath is certain doom."

-Publishers Weekly

Birds of a Feather

by Ed Lahey

"If ever there could be said to be a wholehearted consensus among the literati of Montana, who otherwise have sometimes been known to be territorial, adversarial, and contentious, it is that Ed Lahey is the state's finest living poet, its unofficially crowned laureate. His work has been variously described as being the melancholy voice of the worker, as the literary, earthly, and otherworldly best, as a celebration of human resiliency, with a universal sense of hope, strength, and humility, and as one of the most passionate voices in the landscape of poetry in Montana. One senses over and over in the work, real responses to real people, places, and events, responses informed by longing and love, produced through practiced craft. A native son of Butte, the most extraordinary and resonant locale in all the west, Lahey not only tells its story, but that of the whole geographical and emotional region, and through this true and authentic subject, converts, as does all great art, specificity to universality, by the application of strength and power, tempered by tenderness and sensitivity. His verse is strong and clear, and his song endures."

-Russell Chatham ��

Hours of the Cardinal

Richard Lyons

"In Hours of the Cardinal, a mother's death triggers poems that journey through grief into theunnameable origins of consciousness-before thought, talk, even printed words. These elegies weave stories and anecdotes from literature and the visual arts, literally trying to cheat death by facing it, even facing it down. The ghosts that take flesh in this collection are poets such as Tsvetayeva, Mandelstam, and Tu Fu, painters such as Max Ernst and Frida Kahlo, the mystic Henry Vaughan, the singer-dancer Josephine Baker. By reprising these lives of exile and grief, the poems celebrate the body's attempt to endure in the face of historical atrocities, like the holocausts, racism, and the commodification of the human spirit. In the process of memorializing such lives, Richard Lyons fictionalizes his mother as one more member of the "great dead" as he levels the living and the dead by collaging autobiography and history into narrative meditations that carry the dignity of the individual against forces of greed and conformity."

-University of South Carolina Press

"The death of the mother-the one who authors our speech and nurtures our first world-reverberates through all of Richard Lyons's large-bodied, large-spirited meditations and elegies. Here is a splendid book of exorcism, of ravenous and mournful poems-rescue operations!-furiously crafted against our passing."

-Edward Hirsch

The Feathered Wind

by Deborah Pease

"The Poems of The Feathered Wind, a first collection by Deborah Pease, were written and put into finished form with extraordinary speed, the dates which are individual poem titles corresponding, in most cases, to the days of the few weeks of their composition. Yet the sequence has an air of leisurely meditation on the private realities of a poet's life upon which public actualities impinge. Although the movement of the poems seems as effortless as that of clouds across the surface of a pool, the reader senses the depths of memory which sustain this apparent lightness. The voice of the poems is uniquely confiding, yet different, maintaining a natural discretion in order that the essence of each poem be released, and having an exquisite delicacy of tone which lingers long after the initial reading."

-Puckerbrush publishing

#poetry #poetry lists #poetry books #poems #birds #feathers #books about birds #Grolier Poetry #grolier poetry bookstore #historical #harvard square #local buissness #new poets society #local poets #books with poetry

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firstumcschenectady · 5 years ago

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“Hope for Restoration” based on Isaiah 35:1-10 and Luke 1:57-80

I did my seminary work in Southern California (Los Angeles county) which is a desert climate. The choice to be far away in a different subculture of the USA was intentional, as I figured I could use some perspective on the Northeast. The desert climate part wasn't intentional. I just liked the school, so I decided to go there, and it happened to be in the desert. I had no expectation, whatsoever, that this would be relevant.

So, clearly, it was. The first piece of learning came from the campus itself, which was planted with biblical plants so we as the students could have a better sense of what the Bible was talking about. Because I'd grown up in the water abundant Northeast, I hadn't really considered the ways that my visioning of the Bible was insufficiently desert like.

Then came the fact that I don't LIKE the desert. I hated that the sides of the road were filled with pebbles with nothing growing in them, because without watering, things just didn't grow. I hated being dehydrated, and the amount of water I had to drink to be hydrated. I didn't like the heat. I came to resent Palm Trees for being there when trees I knew and loved couldn't be. (Can you tell LA wasn't a natural fit for me?)

Somewhere along the line as we learned about Christian history it became clear how much of early Christianity was formed by the words and actions of solitary desert thinkers, and later monastic desert communities. The so-called “Desert Fathers” were new to me, but heavens they were important. My classmates who were native to the area waxed poetically about the beauty of the desert, and its starkness, and the rich spiritual depths of being alone in such a stark environment that was so unfriendly to life. I understood part of what they meant, I love the great outdoors, and I have felt closest to God in nature. Except, I don't actually LIKE stark and dangerous landscapes. They are DEFINITELY beautiful. For me they are startling in good ways too, but not really in God-connection ways. My soul isn't a desert soul, although I recognize that desert is as good of a climate as any other. (This is all about my preferences, not about what is good.)

But then, in the winter of my second year, a friend read that the recent rains we'd had were sufficient to make the desert bloom. The desert blooms erratically, it isn't an every year sort of thing. More than that, this was the 100- year bloom, and plants believed to be extinct were in full bloom under the unusual conditions. We drove out to Joshua Tree National Park to see it, and it was breathtaking. From afar, the landscape actually still seemed stark – it wasn't as if the plants were more abundant than they'd been before. But as you looked, flowers were EVERYWHERE. The flowers were more diverse and more delicate than I'd ever seen before. We saw a burning bush in bloom – you can definitely tell why it is called that. Out of what seemed to be bare rock came tiny flowers. Rock faces exploded with color.

There was nothing in my life that had prepared me for the desert bloom. Even now, it stuns me, the transformation of it all. That hidden in the starkness was beauty beyond my imagination. The flowers were bright, and different, but sooooo fragile. It was often hard to believe they existed. It blew my mind to see yards of dusty pebbles in every direction, the floor the desert, and then to notice a tiny little flower breaking through all on its own.

To say it directly, I have seen nothing that proclaims resurrection more than the desert in bloom, and I think it is radically unfair that this desert hating North-easterner got to to savor the 100-year desert bloom, and see life emerge from what looked like lifelessness. But I'm thankful anyway.

Isaiah starts this profound passage with imagery of the desert in bloom. I shared all that, because I don't think that we who know spring flowers, and summer flowers, and even fall flowers can hear how BIG the vision of the desert in bloom is for desert people, nor how much of a miracle it is. The clear joy of this passage fits incredibly well with the desert in bloom. It is abundant, it is colorful, it is unexpected, it is hope-filled, it is transformative.

Isaiah is talking about the joy of homecoming in this passage. The assumption is that the people will be taken into exile (true, they will) but that someday God will act and let them come home (also true). This vision of homecoming is bursting with joy. The act of coming home after the exile is called “restoration” or “the return” and this restoration passage bubbles with joy in God.

It starts with the imagery of the desert in bloom, and then it EXPANDS into human healing. Physical limitations are lifted, healing occurs, strength is given where there has been weakness. Then it takes the desert metaphor even further. Streams of water will flow, pools of water will emerge, springs will break out. I think my favorite line is the one that says, “the haunts of jackals will become swamps.” Now THAT is a transformation.

In the midst of this beautiful, blooming, and now lush landscape, with healing for all in need of it, there will emerge.... a way home. And the way will be safe from all attackers, and easy to follow – impossible to get lost on. On that path, the people will travel home, and life will be restored to what it shall be.

And, of course, there will be joy and singing, and so much of it that sorrow itself will fall away.

What. A. Vision.

It seems hard to believe Isaiah could start with the desert in bloom and then grow imagery from there, but he does it. Exile and return/restoration is one of the big themes of the Bible, likely because while the story happens once to the Israelite people, it happens time and time again to us in our lives.

When I was 13 I broke my femur and was put in a straight leg cast. For months I was unable to navigate stairs on my feet (well, my foot) at all, I had to sit on the steps and move up or down them one at a time. During that time I restlessly dreamed of the day when I would be restored to walking up and down stairs on my feet again. And then, of course, once I was, it mostly lost its luster. For better or worse I've had plenty of injuries in my life though, and my capacity to do stairs has dissipated and then returned rather a lot. Perhaps because of the depth of the yearning in my younger years, sometimes while I'm on a set of stairs, I remember to be grateful for the capacity to use them.

I think exile and restoration have a lot of emotional resonance too, because in large part they are about “home.” And home is a big huge deal to humans. What does home feel like? What does it mean to leave home? How does it feel to be between homes? Or homeless? Or someone with a foot in more than one home but no one place to call home exclusively? When we are sick, or injured, we yearn for home. When we think of displaced people in the world, we recognize the pain of being far from home and without a new place to try to make home. And, as North Americans, we come from people who have left homes. Those whose ancestors came from Europe or Asia often left home voluntarily. Those who ancestors came from Africa were enslaved and torn from their homes. Those who ancestors were native to the Americas were displaced by the Europeans who came here. I sometimes wonder if some of the displacement in our society comes from our shared histories of being displaced in the world. In any case, “home” is something that matters to humans, and exile and restoration are all about home.

Now, the imagery of Isaiah is assumed when we come to Luke. Isaiah's vision of restoration and return home are premised on God's actions, and so are Luke's. John the Baptist is going to be seen as the forerunner of Jesus, the one who starts the path in the desert so Jesus can complete it – and we walk it. The language of Zechariah's song is that of redemption, salvation, mercy, and rescue. ALL of those emerge out of the desire for restoration and return. They are the yearning not just for home, but for a safe home, and Zechariah names that “fearlessness” is an impact of God's work in those days. As John, whose name means “God is Gracious” will prepare the way, and Jesus will walk it, the result will be peace, fearlessness, and light. Redemption, salvation, rescue all resonate with people being safely HOME.

It is the tradition of Christianity to follow Christ, since Christians means “little Christs.” I'm all for this, but sometimes I think it is worth considering when we are being asked to be “little John the Baptists.” Often, I think our work is the prepare the way, and to be prophets of what is possible with God. Perhaps this is just the longview of building the kindom, acknowledging that some work gets to make the BIG changes, but before that happens, there have been years or decades or centuries of preparing the way for that to happen.

In our Advent Study on John Shelby Spong's “Unbelievable” last week we discussed his idea that morality is always contextual, and thus always in flux. So, we talked about how public morality has changed in our lifetimes, and you know what? It has been GREAT!!! Space has been made for people to be who they are and to be accepted and loved as they are in ways that once seemed impossible. LGBTQIA+ rights have expanded, and rights and opportunists for people with disabilities have been normalized, people who are divorced as no longer stigmatized, nor are those who have sex outside of marriage. Women's work opportunities have exploded. All of us in the room had grown in our awareness of racism and privilege, and had hope for the country to change its practices. The changes were truly inspiring. Also, work on all of that inclusion and all of those rights was being done well before any of us were born. Many, many people have prepared the way and we are able to see their work with gratitude.

The work we do to prepare the way is the work that we may never see the impact of. But, we trust that God will make sure the next steps happen, and God's people will follow through, and the preparation will not be in vein.

So, dear ones, prepare the way. Work on building that safe and beautiful highway home for ALL of God's people. Because, someday, it will be complete and the people who walk it will be singing songs of joy and gratitude for what God has made possible. And that which God makes possible, God lets us work on!! Thanks be to God for that, and for beautiful homecomings of many varieties. Amen

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

 https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

December 15, 2019

#fumc schenectady #umc #Sorry about the UMC world #Thinking Church #Progressive Christianity #Advent #Joy Sunday #Desert in Bloom #My boyfriend Isaiah #Rev Sara E Baron #Bishop John Shelby Spong #Zechariah #little John the Baptists

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drsilverfish · 8 years ago

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First Blood 12x09 review

This episode was significantly structured by its nod to the 1980s Rambo movie of the same name. Dabb clearly intended it to further the exploration of the Winchesters’ troubled relationship to (masculine-coded) authority (Daddy issues writ large). With limited success, I feel.

I wasn’t a fan of the concept overall, as I think too many of the problems of the Rambo movie itself were replicated in this SPN riff on it (the intense trauma of “soldier-masculinity” is exposed, but it is, at the end of the day, glorified rather than really broken down and reconfigured).

The Rambo movies are Regan era movies, quintissentially concerned with a mythos of white, blue-collar, masculine, heroic militarised individualism. Using the action movie genre, they explore the blue-collar white man’s trauma, if you like (his depicted betrayal by society and the authorities)...

Rambo (Stallone) is an ex Vietnam Vet, but this is not a political anti-war movie in the sense that Born on the Fourth of July or Platoon are. The US presence in Vietnam is not really questioned, nor is that the focus of the movie.

Rather, the after-effects of war on US soldiers is used as a metaphor for white male American working-class trauma.

Rambo is suffering from PTSD, and this movie explores masculine vulnerability in the midst of hard-bodied action. Distraught after losing an old army buddy, having flashbacks after being mistreated by the authorities, Rambo gets into trouble and is hunted by the police and then the National Guard. He is, of course, super-heroic, and beats all-comers, before a show-down with his ex commanding officer and father-figure.

Sam and Dean are placed in a similar situation to Rambo in Dabb’s episode.

As hunters they are fighting a constant war (against the supernatural) for which they never get credit. Moreover, they carried out a heroic action for the good of the country in expelling Lucifer from the President (if only that were possible IRL) but, instead of being rewarded by the authorities for this, they are treated as criminals. They are imprisoned and tortured via sensory deprivation and solitary confinement. This of course resonates for the audience with all the previous trauma and imprisonment Sam and Dean have suffered (particularly in Hell, at different times). The episode becomes a kind of trauma-porn, in a way, which I disliked, as it apparently circles back round through old Winchester distress for “feels”, without really illuminating anything we didn’t know in spades already.

As in Rambo, the state is a “bad father” (the interrogator, the guards, the mortuarty attendant are all men), This is specifically gendered, so that state authority is masculine in both Rambo’s First Blood and the SPN episode.

Sam and Dean are hard-core escapologists who deal-down with Death herself (in the form of Billie the Reaper) and reveal their militarised hunter-skill as Dean growls at the Feds, “We’re not trapped out here with you, you’re trapped out here with us.”

Apart from the very funny moment when we hear they’re both wanted for desecrating, different, corpses, I didn’t really enjoy these militarised versions of Sam and Dean. They were rather flattened, as characters, by the Rambo parallel, whereas (both as characters and as actors) they are capable of so much more nuance.

The Winchester sacrifice-for-each-other thing goes another round (regrettably) as Dean steps up to fulfil his bargain with Billie and Mary prepares to commit suicide to save both her sons. Is it critiqued? Yes, to an extent, by Cas, who tells them it was a stupid deal.

The biggest mis-step of the episode was that the piece on the chess board who gets sacrificed to get the Winchesters out of jail “free” (although perhaps there will be some consequences further down the line) is the only interesting WOC character the show has. Billie barely scraped the surface of her character’s potential before she was gone (like Abaddon before her).

In a season arc which seems to be aiming to have real-world resonance, as it tackles the theme of authoritarianism in the age of Trump (as represented by the BMOL) that move was cack-handed (given that POC already appear to be major Trump targets - witness the Muslim ban just imposed today). But, I’m afraid, not unexpected.

Mr. Ketch and Mick, of course, serve as smooth, menacing, distorted mirrors for our heroes, during an uneasy team-up, as well as presenting yet more dubious authority-figures.

I can still smell the ghost of John Winchester in the season and I am hoping this is building towards a big moment of family secrets/ tensions/ dynamics exploding.

Mick and Mr. Ketch can be read either as Sam + Dean mirrors or Cas + Dean mirrors (in a long-standing show tradition of speaking both to the brotherly dynamic and Dean/ Cas dynamic). But, with Mick rather evidently in a tan trench-coat, the Cas/ Dean is strong with this one.

I saw some discussion on my dash earlier about whether or not they are queer-coded. I think @sandraugiga and @elizabethrobertajones were talking about how just being British, in fact, queer-codes masculinity as far as the US movie industry is concerned - very true!

Absolutely, I’d say the whole exchange in which Mick has his “smooth” hands remarked upon by the hunter he was trying to enlist - that was coded as a seduction. And whilst the smooth hands comment was, on one level, the doughty American manual worker’s disdain for the paper-pusher, on another level it was a “manly” rejection of “something queer”.

Whilst Sam and Dean show mercy to their opponents, Mr. Ketch moves in and slaughters all the “loose ends”. In many ways, Ketch is someone Dean might admire and be attracted to (certainly in his more black-and-whte view of the supernatural phase, of old) as I mused here:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/152776532214/mr-ketch-whos-the-daddy

I look forward to some more direct interaction between them. That was rather on a leash this episode.

The best moment of the hour was Mick’s “imagine a world without monsters” speech to camera, because it was genuinely seductive. Mary was seduced, and we can see why, if this passionate absolutism was intended to parallel something she was attracted to in John Winchester.

And it has to be seductive, for Mary and for us, so that later, the audience are fully on board for its rejection.

I haven’t even mentioned the Destiel moments, because whilst they’re there, they are desperately unspoken and in a holding pattern (as ever).

I really regret the substitution of mobile phone communication for prayer. Prayer was so much more eroticised and I feel the show has, regrettably, backed off it for that reason.

And I miss BAMF Cas.

Overall - eh Rambo was never my thing. Dabb’s overall season intention to explore political themes intertwined with psychodynamic family themes centered around father/ authority-figures still very much interests me though.

#Supernatural #SPN meta #First Blood #12x09 #Andrew Dabb #SPN review #Meta

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 7 years ago

Photo

18th December >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflection on Matthew 1:18-24 for the 18th December: ‘You must name him Jesus.’

18th December

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 1:18-24

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son

and they will call him Emmanuel,

a name which means ‘God-is-with-us.’ When Joseph woke up he did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do: he took his wife to his home.

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 1:18-25

Jesus was born of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, a son of David.

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

Reflections (6)

(i) 18th December

As we are only a week away from the feast of Christmas, the gospel readings for this week focus on the events associated with the birth and childhood of Jesus. This morning’s gospel reading is Matthew’s account of the Annunciation of the birth of Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, the Annunciation of Jesus’ birth is made to Mary; in Matthew’s gospel, it is made to Joseph. Artists have tended to depict Luke’s version of the Annunciation to Mary much more often than Matthew’s version of the Annunciation to Joseph. In both accounts, the angel announces that Mary is to conceive her child through the Holy Spirit. In both accounts there is a rich description of the unique identity of the child. Matthew’s account of the Annunciation highlights two aspects of the identity of Mary’s child. He is to be named Jesus, a name which means in Hebrew ‘the Lord saves’, because he is to save God’s people from their sins. He is also to be named Emmanuel, which is Hebrew means ‘God is with us’. Combining these names indicates that Jesus is the presence of the loving mercy of God. When we look upon this child, we are looking upon God with us, or as Saint Paul says, God for us, working to reconcile us to himself. Jesus was born, lived and died, to reconcile us to God, to lead us back to God. At the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before his death, the last supper, he said, ‘this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins’. It is because Jesus is the face of God’s mercy that we celebrate his birth with such gladness and hope. He has shown us that nothing need come between us and the love of God.

And/Or

(ii) 18th December

And/Or

(iii) 18th December

And/Or

(iv) 18th December

And/Or

(v) 18th December

And/Or

(vi) 18th December

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 5 years ago

Photo

18th December >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 1:18-24 for the 18th December: ‘She has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit’.

18th December

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 1:18-24

How Jesus Christ came to be born

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son

and they will call him Emmanuel,

a name which means ‘God-is-with-us.’ When Joseph woke up he did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do: he took his wife to his home.

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 1:18-25

Jesus was born of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, a son of David.

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

Reflections (7)

(i) 18th December

And/Or

(ii) 18th December

And/Or

(iii) 18th December

And/Or

(iv) 18th December

And/Or

(v) 18th December

And/Or

(vi) 18th December

In today’s gospel reading we find Joseph struggling to do the right thing, what he believed God wanted of him. Mary’s unexplained pregnancy left him in a very difficult situation. Presuming that her pregnancy indicated she had been unfaithful to him, Joseph found himself torn between what he understood God’s law required him to do, viz. divorce Mary, and his own affectionate feelings for her. In this confusing situation, the gospel reading tells us that Joseph received guidance from the Lord, which he promptly followed. The complex situation in which Joseph found himself is not unlike the kind of situations in which many of us find ourselves from time to time. In so many of life’s situations the best way forward is not always immediately clear. Like Joseph in the gospel reading, we can find ourselves torn between what our head is telling us and what our heart is saying to us. The gospel reading today invites us to have something of the openness of Joseph to the Lord’s guidance. Joseph received the Lord’s guidance through an angel. The Lord’s guidance will often come to us through more ordinary means, such as through those in whom we confide. Their perspective on the situation we are struggling with can often bring a new and a fresh light. We can also experience the Lord’s guidance through prayer. In prayer we allow the Lord to enlighten our minds and hearts so that we can move forward in the light that he provides.

And/Or

(vii) 18th December

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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